f«N ,-j 



,UJa.!iij4U 






ANIl'OTr 





2nd copy. 
1898.1 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Cliap. Copyright No. 

SlieltiAS L '2> 
— -IS^^ 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



JAN a 1899 




HENRY DEAN ATWOOD 



THE LAST ARROW 



AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 



HENRY DEAN ATWOOD 

ii 




TAUNTON, MASS. 
PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR 

1899 

L. 



•AVWc^ 



^ >*^» 



22448 



Copyright, 1899, 
By henry dean ATWOOD. 




JAN 6-1899 



'■ ef Cop^ 



,A« 



Nortooatr ^rcss 

J. S. Gushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith 
Norwood Mass. U.S.A. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



-•0*- 



PAGE 

Zecana . . . , I 

Our Flag , . 13 

Ode of Greeting 15 

The Last Arrow . . .18 

Cigar Song . . 25 

The Mayflower 27 

English Toasts 29 

The French Peasant's Song . . . . . .31 

The Dead Commander . . . . . . -32 

The Soldier Boy . . -34 

The Blue and Gray 36 

The Double Desertion 39 

The Cretan Maid 44 

The Maine • • 53 

Our Destiny 54 

The Soldier's Return 64 

The Light-boat 67 

The Sea-gull . . 69 

A Good Ship and a Gallant Crew 73 

Waves . . 74 

The Fair Harbor 75 

Joy and Sunlight . 76 

The Sea-nymph 77 

iii 



IV TABLE OF CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Ocean 80 

The Prairies 81 

The Evening Fairy . .82 

Twilight ' . . . -83 

To Sue 84 

May-day Wooing 85 

The Exile's Return 92 

She Sleeps . . . 94 

The Old Church Bell 96 

The Solitary 97 

'Coon-hunting 98 

Nature's Prospect 99 

Song of the French Mousquetaires . . . .100 

An Impromptu loi 

Village Chronicles: 

I. The Fight in the Village Glen . . . 102 

II. The Reconciliation 107 

III. The Fortune-teller iii 

The First of May 121 

Job Thrasher's Fight 122 

Robin Goodfellow 131 

Wine . . . . 136 

Drinking-song 138 

A Madrigal 139 

Rangeley Trout . . 141 

Taunton River 143 

Morn 145 

Trout-fishing 147 

Bass-fishing 148 

Quail-shooting 149 

Rabbit-shooting . . . . . . . . .150 



TABLE OF CONTENTS V 

PAGE 

The Robin . . . . » 151 

Dreams » . . 152 

The Broad and Rolling Prairies 153 

The Rescued Fawn 156 

Amy Robsart . . . 159 

At Sea _ . . .161 

The Bloody Tower 162 

Thoughts, from Horace . . . . . . .165 

Flowers . 167 

The Twenty-fifth Birthday . . . . . .168 

Virtues of Masonry .172 

Appendix . . . . . . . = . .185 



THE POEM OF ZECANA 

THE VALLEY 

'TwAS in a wild and lonely vale 

There gushed a fountain, bright and free ; 
And high above shone like a sail, 

When seen afar upon the sea, 
A lofty mount, whose snow-capped head 
Had never felt the white man's tread. 
Oh ! like the gem of a lady's pride 
Was this valley wild by the mountain side ! 
And in the midst, with ceaseless flow. 
From the caverned depths far, far below, 
The sparkling waters ever rise. 
Like lustrous diamonds, to the skies. 
Here song-birds come beneath the shade, 

And build their nests, with warblings sweet 
And whoso strays within the glade 

Their dulcet notes his ear will greet. 
But few are they whose lips have pressed 
The fountain's rim, and there at rest 
Have heard from every rock and tree 
Those birds' sweet notes of minstrelsy ! 



THE POEM OF ZECANA 

THE FOUNTAIN 

The dancing waters leap to light, 

And beat against the fountain's brim : 
Beneath there lurks a water sprite, 

Whose eyes the morning star would dim : 
His realm the fountain's mossy sides — 
In sovereign state he there presides : 
While, through the rifted rocks below, 
The waters have eternal flow. 
Let there the human voice be dumb, 

And none the Spirit's power defy; 
He holds the fate of all who come. 

And gives them faithful augury. 
Who gaze within the waters clear 

And cast their votive offerings there, 
Rejoice to mark his smile appear. 

And view his frowning with despair ! 
For as, beneath the slightest breath, 

O'er summer's lake the ripples flow — 
So from his frown comes speedy death, 

His smile will lengthened years bestow. 
Or when the sun is in the sky, 

Or when the rounded moon is seen, 
When summer winds come dreaming by. 

Or winter's snow enshrouds the green — 
Tradition says, since first the time 

The antelope was on the plain. 
And lordly bison sought the clime 

With each recurring year again — 



THE POEM OF ZECANA 

So long that fount had ceaseless flow — 
So long that Spirit dwelt below ! 

THE CHIEFTAIN 

One day an Indian chieftain hied 

Unto that lonely fountain side ; 

And laid himself adown to rest, 

And drew his wampum from his breast : 

He cast the beads within the tide, 

And watched them circling far and wide - 

An offering thrown by pious hands, 

As ancient custom so demands. 

His votive gift the waves disdain, 

And bring unto his feet again ; 

While o'er the darkened water played 

The angry Spirit's frowning shade. 

And, as he gazed, with lips apart. 

The blood ran chill unto his heart ; 

For there, unless all sense belied, 

He saw the semblance of his bride. 

A look of such distress she wore — 

Such anguish every feature bore — 

He could not brook that sight to see, 

But deemed it baneful augury ! 

He called his steed that stood near by. 

And would with slightest word comply : 

Upon his back did swiftly spring. 

And then was off like bird on wing. 

This thought was his : " My love is dead ! 

As o'er the prairies wild he fled. 



THE POEM OF ZECANA 

Of his mad flight and what befell, 
Let his own words the story tell. 

THE PRAIRIES 

The rolling prairies stretch before — 
From each high crest a thousand more 
Expanding, till the gazing eye 
Beholds horizon meet the sky : 
Eternal waves, like ocean's breast, 
Quelled into silence and at rest. 
How quiet all : no voice profanes 
The brooding silence of the plains : 
Though travelled far o'er land and sea- 
No matter where the clime may be — 
Who once has viewed can ne'er forget. 
The scene will hold in memory yet. 

THE FLIGHT 

Away ! away ! The Northern star 
Shall prove our guide on journey far : 
The springing turf beneath our heel, 
Shall fiery steed and rider feel : 
Away, away ! The night winds sigh — 
The boding owl makes harsh reply. 
The howling wolves — a ravening pack. 
Are hanging close upon our track. 
O steed of mine, O courser true, 
Redoubled fire thy veins imbue ! 



THE POEM OF ZECANA 

Till in thy flight, like winged dart, 
Thou cleavest the gathering winds apart ! 
Strain up the height, O gallant steed. 
Thy headlong flight let naught impede ! 
Dash down the slope, like bounding roe, 
To those far depths that yawn below ! 
Let there thy nimble footsteps sound. 
And wake the echoes wild around — 
Again thou'lt breast the proud hill's side, 
To course again the prairies wide ! 
The clear, cold stars within the skies. 
Look down on earth with tender eyes: 
They whisper, sigh, and seem to say, 
" Ride, ride, in haste ! away, away ! " 
Who is to say what visions dread 
Passed through my brain, as on I sped ! 
In rapid flight, hour after hour. 
And taxed my courser's failing power ? 
Till eastern skies began to flush. 
And night retired at morning's blush ! 
The morning's sun that glads the skies 
Shall see my home before me rise; 
Shall see Zecana at my call. 
Rush to my arms, my loved, my all ! 

ZECANA 

The Spanish Peaks in outline clear. 
Against the sky their summits rear ! 
Another hour will find us there — 
And thou shalt have my tender care — 



THE POEM OF ZECANA 

Of care and rest, my faithful steed, 
Thy drooping crest shows fearful need! 
Through waving grass we onward go, 
To reach the goal will both bestow. 
The eagle's nest within the tree, 
That guards my home, I plainly see ! 
My heart beats quickly in my breast 
With thoughts of her I love the best ! 
The hour is past ; beneath the shade. 
Where rests my home, my course is stayed. 
I slack the girth — throw off the rein 
My panting steed can breathe again. 
" Zecana, wake ! Thy lord is here ! 
Why comest thou not his heart to cheer ? 
Thy smiling face, and loving eyes, 
Should welcome him with sweet surprise ! 
What means this silence.'* Lo, I find 
Thy latticed door swings to the wind! 
Zecana, love! " again I call — 
And list the dying accents fall ; 
From caverned rocks the echoes come, 
" Zecana, love ! " all else is dumb ! 



THE SEARCH 

O'er fallen trees I make my search. 
Where ink-like ooze and mire besmirch 
For here long years ago were felled 
The forest trees that empire held. 



THE POEM OF ZECANA 

I followed where a gentle tread, 
Like fairy footsteps, faintly led — 
And all around were signs of strife — 
Discarded spear, and scalping-knife — 
The earth, where foe had grappled foe, 
The marks of mortal combat show : 
And here and there along the way 
In death's cold clasp my tribesmen lay. 



THE DISCOVERY 

I found her resting in the shade, — 
Beneath a palm her head was laid: 
Upon the damp and sodden ground 
My greatest treasure thus I found. 
A serpent glided from her side — 
Above a vulture circled wide : 
An arrow fixed within her breast. 
And bloody marks were on her vest. 
** Zecana, love ! Zecana mine, 
A thousand lives were cheap for thine ! 
Thy tribesmen all — had they been nigh, 
Would guard thee safe, or gladly die ! 
But now too late — the deed is done 
And Spanish hate has victory won ! " 
My grief and tears I could not stay — 
My heart was broke — my brain gave way. 
In anguished thought an oath I swore. 
That Spanish blood should freely pour. 



THE POEM OF ZECANA 

The ruthless slayers, whom I cursed, 
Should feel my weight of vengeance first ! 

REVENGE 

Revenge ! That word has fearful power 

To nerve the soul in darkest hour ! 

Let timid souls beseech and pray ! 

'Tis mine, when wronged, to smite and slay ! 

I sought with care to find the trail — 

And knew when found I should not fail ; 

The slightest mark upon the plain. 

To me gave sign, ne'er lost again. 

Where'er the foot of man had trod 

I traced its impress on the sod. 

I followed long the devious course, 

Where cunning tried its best resource : 

Through canyons deep and forests wide, 

O'er rocky cliff and mountain side — 

Until at last I saw a glade. 

O'er which the curling smoke-wreaths played. 

Here was the bourne for which I sought. 

Here to my hand my foe was brought ! 

And in my soul I madly laughed. 

For here Revenge might well be quaffed ! 

NIGHT 

When night her veil of darkness spreads. 
And earth and sky in silence weds. 
The tender moon refulgent grows. 
The parted clouds her face disclose : 



THE POEM OF ZECANA 

The lighted stars their lattice ope, 
And send a gleam of heavenly hope, 
A sign, that mortal hearts may know 
A spark divine still lives below. 
O'er rivers broad, and lake at rest. 
And o'er the ocean's mighty breast. 
O'er rocky cliffs, and meadows wide, 
And on the lofty mountain side 
Where grasses grow, and forests sigh, 
And insect voices make reply, — 
The silvery beams of sparkUng light. 
In pencilled rays grow doubly bright : 
The fall of waters to the ear 
On zephyrs borne, sounds doubly clear : 
While oft the song-birds' softened note 
From hidden spray doth gently float. 
Here quiet reigns ; and all proclaims. 
How wise the great Creator frames. 
'Tis man alone whose strife demeans, 
And mars the joy of nature's scenes. 
So has it been, so must it be. 
Till warring factions all agree : 
And peace and friendship weld the band 
That holds the nations hand in hand. 

RETRIBUTION 

Such thoughts as these assume their sway, 
As I concealed in ambush lay ; 
But, as I gaze, before my eyes 
A startling vision seems to rise. 



10 THE POEM OF ZECANA 

Two gleaming lights are in the air : 
One shines upon a forehead fair, 
Like loved Zecana's, lost, and dead, 
The other on the Spaniard's head. 
They beckon with alluring glow, 
I rise, and follow where they go. 
Unto the very block-house wall : 
Where they, like flambeaus, fade and fall 
But from the portent well I knew 
What way to win, what course pursue. 
The door flies open at my touch. 
My dagger's hilt I fiercely clutch : 
Where are the sentries ? Why so still ? 
Is this some ambush for my ill ? 
An instant's pause I make, and then 
I seek my foe 'mong sleeping men. 
O'ercome with wine perchance they lay. 
In slumbrous dreams their senses stray. 
I lightly tread, where noise were death ; 
And faces scan with bated breath. 
Long time I looked before I caught 
A glimpse of him for whom I sought. 
Then to his side I swiftly stole. 
To slay him there was in my soul : 
But vengeance thus were not complete ; 
A sudden death were much too sweet. 
A lengthened torture he must share. 
And many hours of anguish bear. 
Now with this thought I stayed my hand, 
A deeper vengeance I demand. 



THE POEM OF ZECANA II 

I took my lariat, deftly threw 

Around his neck, and tightly drew. 

When gagged and bound, I whispered, " Rise ! 

" Now, Spaniard, go ! Thou art my prize." 

One step beyond the lintel made, 

A voice gave challenge from the shade : 

Swift from its sheath my dagger flew. 

The blow I struck was straight and true. 

The sentry fell, his life had flown 

In needed ransom for my own. 

What is there more for me to say .-* 

For hours I sped upon my way, 

Before the Spaniard's followers knew 

Their chief was gone, or could pursue : 

Ere night again the earth had won, 

I found my laborous journey done, 

Again at home, though none might see, 

Nor loved one call, or come to me. 

Straightway I sought my faithful steed. 

Who never yet had failed my need : 

And when I called, with welcome neigh, 

He galloped gladly to obey : 

And laid his head within my hand. 

As was his wont at my command. 

My captive on his back I placed, 

And bound him fast with lariat laced : 

And while the steed he thus bestrode, 

Affrighted plunged beneath the load. 

Nor word of mine could soothe his fear, 

I hissed within the Spaniard's ear : 



12 THE POEiM OF ZECANA 

" Now let thy soldiers ride behind, 

And match their speed against the wind: 

The steed thou ridest in his veins 

Has blood of Andalusian strains : 

He'll bear thee well : the cords that bind 

Will hold thee fast, as thou shalt find. 

The haunting winds about will play. 

The wolves will follow for their prey : 

Till thou dost plunge to endless night, 

And thus thy crime to me requite." 

Now, from my hold the steed set free, 

Like flash of light speeds o'er the lea : 

He tossed his mane, with eye of fire 

He bounded on, with fierce desire 

To loose himself from that he bore, 

And roam untrammelled as of yore. 

In vain he bounds, in vain he leaps. 

Or scales the heights, or sounds the deeps ; 

The burden still retains its hold. 

The body clings, though stark and cold : 

Nor can be freed or night or day, 

Unshaken still that senseless clay ; 

Until at last, his forces spent, 

The steed must fall, his life be shent : 

And ere the soul is well released. 

The Spaniard's heart shall vultures feast, 

The ravening wolves shall have their share. 

His quivering flesh to fragments tear. 



OUR FLAG 13 



OUR FLAG 

Ode written for the Ancient and Honourable Artillery 
Company, June, 1894 



Thou glorious flag of freedom's air, 

With folds so grandly swelling, 
In every star emblazoned there. 

Proud memories are dwelling. 
Should danger come from any shore 

And fields grow rich with slaughter. 
In thy defence our hearts would pour 

Their crimson tide like water. 

Chorus 

Our flag, our flag, our country's flag ! 

Should danger e'er assail thee. 
The bugle's call will find us all ; 

We'll never, never fail thee ! 

II 

For life or death, our latest breath 

Would win thy greatest glory, 
And never shame should soil thy fame, 

Embalmed in song and story. 
Our sabres bright would guide the fight. 

While war-steeds, madly neighing. 
Would wildly dash where cannons flash. 

And hands were red with slaying. 



14 OUR FLAG 

III 

Our infantry's united files, 

Like stone walls, would be steady 
To meet opposing foemen's wiles. 

And always would be ready. 
And when the bugle song shall cease 

Far in the foremost sally. 
Though woful were our ranks' decrease, 

The rest would sternly rally ! 

IV 

And when the star-eyed Peace returned, 

O'er Victory's field descending, 
And quenchless ardor in us burned 

For home and friends attending. 
What glorious welcome there would be 

For those who did their duty. 
And shouts of gladness, songs and glee. 

From lips of youth and beauty ! 



ODE OF GREETING 

TO THE 

HONOURABLE ARTILLERY COMPANY 

OF LONDON, ENGLAND 

ON THE OCCASION OF THE BANQUET GIVEN TO THAT 
HONOURABLE BODY BY THE 

ANCIENT AND HONORABLE ARTILLERY COMPANY 

OF BOSTON, MASS., U.S.A. 

AT THE 

NEW KING'S HALL, HOLBORN RESTAURANT 
On Thursday Evening, July 9, 1896 



COMPOSED BY 

HENRY DEAN ATWOOD 

Appointed " Poet of the Occasion," at a meeting of the London Committee 
of the A. & H. A. Co., March 18, 1896 



l6 ODE OF GREETING 



ODE OF GREETING 

To THE Honourable Artillery Company, of London, England, 

July 9, 1896 

Tune, " God Save the Queen." 

I 
Long live this Ancient Corps; 
And may it evermore 

Be England's pride. 
Long may its banner wave 
Above the loyal brave, 
Confronting danger grave, 

Should it betide. 

II 

Afar beyond the sea 

A body, sprung from thee, 

Doth have its home ; 
Thy children greet thee here ; 
Thou art a parent dear, 
To whom their hearts are near, 

Too fixed to roam. 

Ill 
Ne'er may the fatal hour 
Of war's opposing power 

Peal out anew. 
And ne'er may hatred rise, 
To rupture friendly ties 



ODE OF GREETING 1/ 

That make us fond allies, 
And comrades true. 

IV 

And if, in time to come, 
The sound of fife and drum 

Smite either land. 
Let not the martial tread 
Be on our fallen dead ; 
Let not the blood be shed 

By brothers' hand. 



SOUVENIR JULY 9, 1 896 



THE LAST ARROW 



By henry dean ATWOOD 



THE LAST ARROW 19 

THE LAST ARROW 

Founded on an Incident of the French and Indian War, 1696 

As the Indian lay in his peaceful glade, 

At rest on his couch of the deerskin made, 

He saw in a vision his tribe dispersed, 

And the warriors slain by a Race accursed ; 

Whom ages before wise prophets foretold 

Would come to their land for conquest and gold ; 

Who would seem like the angels, so white and so fair, 

So blue were their eyes, so golden their hair. 

And he tossed in his slumbers, and murmured low : 

" Alas for my people, they will melt like the snow ; 

They will vanish from earth, like the mist from the sun ; 

Their time is soon over, their race will be run. 

Concealed in their coverts, existing in pain ; 

Sought out by the foeman, discovered and slain." 

And his hand rested lightly, where lay by his side 

The young Indian princess, his early-won bride. 

And she woke with a shudder that chilled her heart's 

blood. 
As frost chills the fountain and chains up the flood. 
And she raised her lithe figure, and bending her ear. 
She listened and looked for the sound drawing near. 
'Twas a tread like the cougar's, displacing the leaves. 
That even when wakeful the watcher deceives ; 
And she strained her fair vision o'er the landscape in 

sight 
Where the dark bending willow and hemlock unite, 



20 THE LAST ARROW 

At the edge of the clearing, Hf ting branches on high ; 

Weaving figures fantastic, towering up to the sky. 

And she saw for an instant, 'neath the moon's pallid glow, 

A figure half standing, half crouching below ; 

And her heart stilled its beating ; the features proclaim 

A renegade white, lost to honor and shame ; 

Who long had pursued her, had fought with her sire, 

Had tortured her tribesmen with gauntlet and fire ; 

Had plundered their village, and captured their game, 

And given their wigwams to ravage and flame. 

'Twas he, and no other ; she well knew the face, 

Peering out from the branches he thrust from their place. 

And over his features a baleful gleam passed, 

As a glance from his covert he rapidly cast. 

Then beneath the dark shadows again he withdrew. 

And hastened away to his murderous crew. 

And Neoskaleeta, a moment in prayer. 

Besought of great Manitou her people to spare ; 

Then she spoke to her warrior who slumbering lay : 

"Arouse, Kiodago, arouse thee, I say! 

De Graas is upon us, he follows us still. 

In hopes to surprise us, and so wreak his will ; 

Let the braves be assembled. Let the warriors all know 

They must fight to the death with their bitterest foe." 

Aroused in an instant by the warning she gave. 

Every sense was alert of her valorous brave ; 

He sprung from his couch, he seized on his bow. 

And his quiver of arrows about him doth throw ; 

Then bounded away to the fast-waning fires, 

And roused from their slumbers the warriors and sires. 



THE LAST ARROW 21 

And soon they were stationed in ambush around, 
Each man like a statue, in silence profound. 
E'er the light of the dawning gave token of day. 
And the shades in the forest had dispersed at its ray. 
There was heard from the distance a murmurous sound : 
'Twas the bands of the foeman encircling the ground. 
Soon the whites, ne'er suspecting their presence was 

known, 
Rushed with shouts on the wigwams, whose inmates had 

flown ; 
But they rushed to destruction, midway in career 
They were smote from each quarter with arrow and 

spear. 
The contest long doubtful, at last had an end ; 
The bright rays of morning the leaguers befriend. 
And betrayed in each recess the warriors concealed. 
And deprived of their shelter, it forced them to yield. 
They retreat fighting bravely, they sell their lives 

dear, 
For the heart of the Mohawk is callous to fear. 
When at last 'tis all over, and each rocky steep. 
Drenched with blood, showeth plainly the pathway they 

keep; 
Then the renegade, casting fierce glances around, 
Cries : " Seek out Kiodago ! The chief must be 

found ! " 
'Mid the shot and the shout of the foe, as they fell, 
The prize that he sought for had vanished as well. 
And afar up the mountain to a grotto unknown. 
Ne'er heard of by white men, Kiodago has flown, 



22 THE LAST ARROW 

And Neoskaleeta, with terror distraught, 

At last to this refuge in safety has brought. 

But as swift on their trail as the sleuth-hound can fly, 

Doth the renegade white with his followers hie. 

For oft had he seen, as he shared the same fire, 

And appeared as the friend of the princess' brave sire, 

The chief take his way to the far mountain's head. 

To gaze on the scene in its beauty outspread. 

Where the silvery waters lay curling below, 

That were fed by the springs of the pure mountain 

snow. 
And he cried in his joy, as he looked on his prize, 
" She is mine, she is mine ! And who thwarteth me 

dies ! " 
As he bounded aloft, how exultant the shout. 
That echoed and pealed through the wild wood about ; 
And quickened the flight of the fast-fleeing twain 
Till the dizziest height of the mountain they gain ; 
Where crevice and chasm, alike yawning wide. 
Spread a path of destruction upon either side. 
And here, 'neath the shelter of a storm-riven tree. 
They turn them at bay and their fell foeman see. 
He hath followed them far with a hatred dire, 
And a heart that was fed with a lustful fire. 
Now he pauses a moment, for the trail is lost ; 
But that moment proves fatal, his life is its cost. 
For the chief bends his bow, the string draweth tight ; 
And the arrow has flown with the speed of the light. 
It has cleft through his corselet to the vile traitor's heart : 
With a terrible cry, as he feels the fierce dart. 



THE LAST ARROW 23 

He reels once about, with his arms wildly thrown, 
With a grasp at the air, and a life-ebbing groan ; 
E'er a hand could give aid, in convulsion's last throe 
He shot from the height to the dark gulf below. 
At the sight all his followers drew backward in fear ; 
And swiftly then fled, though the prize was so near. 
Now joy to the chieftain, whose danger is past, 
Whose quiver was empty, that arrow his last. 

'Tis a tale of the past that my Muse has told ; 

Methinks with the ages it cannot grow old. 

While the human heart has its hopes and its fears, 

Its days of joy, as of grief and tears. 

The human heart is a mystery still. 

Will it listen at last to its Maker's will } 

Will it learn that to love is better than hate ; 

That the crimes of the past we must expiate ; 

That the Ruler of all, in the Ark divine. 

Will teach us the word and countersign ? 

Will open his arms, when we fall asleep, 

As the Shepherd would welcome his wandering 

sheep ; 
Will open his arms, and receive us all. 
If we will but list to his loving call ; 
And an equal care will on each bestow. 
With a look benign that we all shall know ? 
Ah ! Blessed be the day, and joyous the hour, 
When human passion no longer has power 
To kindle to hatred the hearts that, in peace, 
Forever should dwell in a happy release 



24 THE LAST ARROW 

From war through the ages, in welfare and weal, 

Till the future of Time shall its purpose reveal. 

Till the waves that have smote us, the tempests that 

tore. 
Shall be silenced and calmed on eternity's shore. 

When the time shall come in the passing years, 

That the foe of to-day as our friend appears ; 

When the hand that holds the glittering sword 

Is stayed at the sound of a peaceful word ; 

When the echo of bells is borne on the air. 

As they tell of the Peace that rules everywhere ; 

When dissensions shall die, as die they must, 

When the guns are spiked, and the swords are rust ; 

When the plough shall run in its furrows wide, 

And the peaceful arts shall our progress guide ; 

Let the land of Columbia, where dwell the free. 

Be proudly the first with its kin to agree. 

And the hand in her friendship that England extends, 

Let us grasp it as heartily, and ever be friends. 



CIGAR SONG 25 

CIGAR SONG 

Sung on Board the "Servia" 



You may talk of your fairies — 
Of your Nancys and Marys — 

That lure the fond lover from far, 
But there's not half the rapture 
In the kisses you capture 

That I taste in a fragrant cigar. 

Chorus 

O Yara, La Rosa, 
Sublima, Composa, 

La Reina Victoria, Cay-o-hu-so ; 
La Muria, Bellina, 
Manilla, Fleur Fina, 

Za Zuelo, Maduro, Sweet Figaro. 

II 

Through its fringe of dark lashes, 
As the maiden's eye flashes. 

You may swear 'tis as bright as a star; 
But no star in its splendor 
E'er beamed half so tender 

As the glow of my lighted cigar. 



26 CIGAR SONG 



III 



Virgin charms when beholding, 
In your arms closely folding, 

You may feel like a Sultan or Czar; 
But there's not half the pleasure 
In the gain of the treasure, 

That I feel when I clasp a cigar. 

IV 

At the touch of Time's finger 
All in vain shall we linger. 

For the charms of our youth he will mar; 
We shall fall like the ashes. 
With a few fitful flashes, 

As they drop from a lighted cigar. 



THE MAYFLOWER 2/ 

THE MAYFLOWER 

OR 
POEM OF LIBERTY 

Behold the Mayflower on the sea, 

That bears the soul of Liberty — 

The Pilgrim band, a scanty flock, 

Defying wave and tempest's shock ! 

Not wealth is theirs, not land and gold, 

But courage high, and purpose bold. 

They sail afar from home and friends. 

To seek the Hght that Freedom sends ; 

They find a wild and sterile shore, 

No white man's foot e'er pressed before : 

Starvation's self, with praise and prayer, 

They taught their steadfast souls to bear. 

Through lengthened days of winter drear 

There was no heart gave way to fear. 

As time passed on, and years rolled by. 

Through winter's storm and summer's sky, 

They saw the virgin forests yield 

To broad expanse of fruitful field ; 

Whose bosom gave a guerdon rare 

To recompense the toiler's care. 

New homes appear — the smoke-wreaths rise 

From hearths the goodwife's hand supplies. 

'Twas peaceful all — from morn to eve. 

No honest man had cause to grieve : 

But, well content with fortune's lot. 

He toiled each day, and murmured not. 



28 THE MAYFLOWER 

But lo, the Indian rears his head, 
And strikes his fangs, with venom dread 
The Indian, feared by young and old, 
Whose savage deeds have oft been told : 
The cottage burned, the inmates slain. 
And many a hapless captive ta'en ! 
Long years it took of deadly strife 
'Gainst tomahawk and scalping-knife, 
Before the settlers could subdue 
The red man's wild and savage crew. 
Then greater wars more deadly rage, 
As we can learn from history's page; 
Until we sought alone to stand. 
And left our mother's guiding hand. 
But let no cause for hatred dire 
Between each kindred race transpire ! 
Let tyrant war withdraw his blade. 
Content with havoc erstwhile made. 
Let envy come, with cunning plea. 
To prove how false the truth can be — 
Unwilling ears to her we turn, 
And from our presence quickly spurn ! 
But there are counsels wise and good, 
When they are rightly understood. 
That neither force nor fear demand. 
But firm for truth and justice stand. 
Let such be heard, when cause appears ; 
Let such not meet unwilling ears ! 
Choose Arbitration's gentle school, 
Where force before had iron rule. 



ENGLISH TOASTS 29 

ENGLISH TOASTS 

Voice of the Ancient and Honourable Artillery Company 

Three cheers for Mother England, 
Where peace and comfort dwell ; 

Three cheers for Queen Victoria, 
Who has ruled so long and well. 



Three cheers for Albert Edward, 

And all the royal line ; 
Illustrious through the ages 

May their descendants shine. 



Three cheers for London City, 

Home of wealth and spacious marts ; 

The welcome that she gave us 
Will be stamped upon our hearts. 



Three cheers for British soldiers. 
Who on the field of fame 

Have died for Queen and Country, 
And the glory of Her name. 



Three cheers for British sailors, 
Such as heard the cannon roar. 

With Nelson at the Nile, 
And again at Elsinore. 



30 ENGLISH TOASTS 

The meteor flag of England, 

With the Stars and Stripes unfurled, 

They may wave aloft together, 
And dominate the world ! 



Let our quarrels have an ending. 
Let our nations both agree ; 

And with hearts and voices blending. 
Let us cheer the H. A. C. ! 



THE FRENCH PEASANT'S SONG 31 



THE FRENCH PEASANT'S SONG 

What care I for battles and wars — 

What care I for wounds and scars ! 

Here is my hut by the mountain side, 

Here is my wife, to live by my side ! 

The battle may rage, and when it is done, 

What is the gain of the victory won ? 

The eagles may fly, the cohorts may pour. 

The bugle may sound, the cannon may roar — 

But over it all the shades of Despair 

Will hover in gloom with the fiends of the air. 

A victory won is a victory lost ; 

And the heart of a Nation must bleed as its cost. 

Nevermore should the sword be bathed in the flow 

Of the rivers of blood that may run from the foe ! 

Let Peace spread her wings o'er the whole human race. 

And the despot o'erthrown to the freeman give place. 



Note. — Travellers in Europe are continually reminded of the military 
despotism which prevails everywhere. Women are seen at daily toil in 
the fields, and elsewhere, doing work which in America is done by men. 
It is rare to find a man in any walk of life who has not served at some 
time in the army. 



32 THE DEAD COMMANDER 



THE DEAD COMMANDER 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! The fight is won ; 

The last is sabred at his gun : 

The dead and dying all around, 

With life-blood stain the trampled ground ; 

But still the panting heart doth feel 

The ring of shot and clash of steel. 

The smoke of powder fills the air, 

That to our ears the murmurs bear 

Of those who groan and gasp with pain ; 

And still with failing efforts strain 

To rise, and find some shelter near, 

Where they can rest and have no fear. 

What fearful shrieks and awful groans 

To send a shudder through the bones. 

Here lies a horse, and there a man, 

I stop his pallid face to scan. 

Still, calm, and white, with noble brow. 

And eyes that bear the death-seal now. 

I knew thee well, an hour ago 

Thy stately form was pacing slow 

Before the lines, with words of cheer. 

And to thy soldiers thou wert dear. 

Thy words, they drove all thought away, 

Save eager wishes for the fray, 

That then and there, with thrust and blow. 

We might be hurled upon the foe. 



THE DEAD COMMANDER 33 

To please our leader we would dare 
All hardships, dangers, and despair. 
But he is dead, and we must mourn ; 
And direful vengeance we have sworn. 
Farewell, farewell ! O soldier heart. 
That always took the manly part ; 
Thy soldiers feel 'tis fearful cost. 
The fight is won, but thou art lost. 



34 



THE SOLDIER BOY 



THE SOLDIER BOY 

I 

" Farewell to thee, farewell to thee, 

My loved one, and my dearie ; 
For Spanish might is at its height, 

And Spanish hearts are cheery ; 
Of waiting still for further ill 

I feel I'm growing weary ; 
And ere the dawn I must be gone, 

And so farewell, my dearie." 

II 

*' Come weal or woe, I bid thee go, 

My faithful soldier laddie. 
With Heaven's blessings on thy head, 

And mine, my own dear Caddie. 
And take the glaive your father gave, 

When he left us thegither 
With this request, his last behest. 

That we should love each ither." 

Ill 

Sae Nannie said, sae Nannie said, 
The sweet one, and the sonsie ; 

Should I nae fight wi' all my might, 
I'm sure it wad be donsie. 



THE SOLDIER BOY 35 

The Spanish need is sore indeed 

And all their fields are hastie ; 
Of Cuba's soil they make their spoil, 

For they are bred to wastrie. 

IV 

But in an' out, and all about, 

Sae gallantly they stump it, 
They ne'er will yield the battle-field, 

Till they are nicely thumpit. 
Sae I will gae, come weal or wae, 

As bold as any Roman, 
Thro' Simmer's heat, or Winter's sleet, 

To meet the Spanish foeman. 



36 THE BLUE AND GRAY 

THE BLUE AND GRAY 

Poem written for Memorial Day, May 30, 1898 

I 

When last we placed our gift of flowers 

Above our comrades resting, 
The white-winged dove of Peace was ours, 

No thought of harm molesting : 
But how a spectral form appears 

To stay the life-blood bounding, 
And women's hearts are filled with fears. 

The call to arms is sounding. 

II 

On Chickamauga's tented field 

Our valiant host reposes, 
Grim-visaged War's uplifted shield 

His wrinkled front discloses : 
His gaze is turned across the waves 

To Cuba's fair possession. 
Where starving thousands fill their graves 

Beneath proud Spain's oppression. 

Ill 

The North and South together meet — 
Not now, as once, contending ; 

One starry flag alike they greet, 
One country both defending : 



THE BLUE AND GRAY 37 

And when they move with martial tread 

Where shot and shell are rending, 
In dust must bow the Spaniard's head, 

His power will have its ending. 

IV 

O Cuba, fair and fertile isle, 

With countless beauties glowing. 
On thee once more may plenty smile 

At nature's rich bestowing : 
May Victory crown with golden days 

Thy faithful Patriots' yearning — 
And wreathe them with immortal bays 

For future Time's discerning. 



The Blue and Gray will gladly come 

To aid thee in thy battle ; 
The spirit-stirring fife and drum 

Will join the musket's rattle ; 
And madly, higher, peal on peal, 

Where sounds the cannon loudest. 
Their serried ranks of gleaming steel 

Will ever march the proudest. 

VI 

Havana, on thy buttressed shore 
Thou wilt at last awaken ; 

And thou wilt hear the sullen roar, 
As all thy walls are shaken: 



38 THE BLUE AND GRAY 

The whirling smoke will hide thy spires, 
The volleying shot will thunder, 

Thy hopes be turned to funeral pyres, 
And Morro rived asunder. 

VII 

And when the clouds have rolled away, 

No more thy sky concealing — 
O Cuba, thou wilt best repay 

With grateful heart and feeling 
The land that not for power or gain 

Her helping hand extended — 
But freed thee from the tyrant's chain, 

And all thy rights defended. 

VIII 

Through all the change of coming Time — 

Whatever it discloses — 
Thy heart should beat with ours in chime. 

Thy safety thus reposes. 
Seek Education's highest steep. 

Fill youth with love of learning. 
And ever on thy altars keep 

The fires of freedom burning. 



THE DOUBLE DESERTION 39 

THE DOUBLE DESERTION 

Recited before W. H. Bartlett Post 3, G. A. R., May, 1890 

It was moonlight on the waters, and the stars shone 

clear and bright, 
And the sentry's musket glistened through the shadows 

of the night. 
As he paced his lonely round upon the fair Potomac's 

shore. 
While he thought of home and kindred that might 

never greet him more ; 
And his hand drew forth a locket that beneath his vest 

he wore. 

That to him was greater treasure and more precious 
than the mine 

Where bright gems are found in clusters, and the spar- 
kling metals shine ; 

For enshrined he saw the image of the maid to him 
most dear. 

Thrice he raised it to his lips, and still again he held 
it near. 

While affection in his bosom claimed the tribute of a 
tear. 

At that moment from the distance came what seemed 

a stealthy tread. 
And he crouched beneath the shadow, where some 

tangled branches spread ; 



40 THE DOUBLE DESERTION 

Then he listened, cocked his musket, put his locket 

'neath his vest, 
And still deeper in the shadow there reclined upon his 

breast. 
And the musket firmer, closer, as the sound approached 

him, pressed. 

Soon the underbrush was parted and a man came into 

view ; 
And he threw a hurried glance around, as one in haste 

would do, 
When he fears some lurking danger, like a Nemesis at 

hand, 
But hopes to 'scape it bravely by some means that he 

has planned. 
And whose fainting hopes, when drooping, are by fresh 

exertions fanned. 

He could little dream what danger there was lurking for 

his ill. 
For the scene was like a picture, 'twas so peaceful and 

so still ; 
When all fiercely sprang the sentry from the shadow 

where he lay. 
With his musket firm presented, and before him stood 

at bay. 
" Halt," he cried, " for friend or foeman can no farther 

pass this way ! " 

Was it cowardice that led him ? Nay, for that were 
infamy ! 



THE DOUBLE DESERTION 4I 

First to hurl aside the sentry, and so swiftly then to 

flee — 
Straight before him lay the forest, and he thither bent 

his flight ; 
But the sentry, fast pursuing, of the fugitive caught 

sight — 
And his trusty musket quickly fired and the bullet sped 

aright. 

For he staggered once and tottered — and the instant 

after fell, 
And remorse upon the sentry evermore affixed its spell ; 
For he hastened toward the body, and he turned it on 

its side 
As he murmured : " Some deserter who untimely thus 

has died ! " 
But he recognized the features, — " Oh ! my brother ! " 

then he cried. 



And he bore the body back again, and laid it 'neath the 

moon — 
Ah ! 'twas shame and pity, noble youth, thy spirit fled 

so soon; 
For with speed the news was bruited, at the coming of 

the dawn. 
Through the Southern camp a tremor ran, a noble heart 

was gone. 
" He deserted, and he perished," but they said it not 

with scorn. 



42 THE DOUBLE DESERTION 

For, denied all leave of absence, yet his heart was ever 

true, 
And upon the wings of love to meet his own sweetheart 

he flew. 
She was o'er Potomac's water, far beyond its swelling 

tide. 
Was the fair one who, betrothed to him, had sworn to 

be his bride ; 
And there ne'er could be a nobler pair in all the world 

beside. 

Who shall dare convey the news to her ? If any be so 

bold, 
Let him pray for nerves of triple strength and heart 

that's icy cold. 
They be few can stay a woman's tears, or soothe her in 

distress : 
Since the balm so offered fails to heal, e'en silence 

wounds her less; 
And proud manhood, when it deigns to bend, is rough 

in tenderness. 

'Twas the very day appointed to unite their destiny — 
But a single hour was wanting of their marriage jubilee. 
When the fatal news was whispered by a messenger 

who sped. 
To bring tidings to the living of the lover that was 

dead. 
Ah ! the blow indeed was bitter that could bow her 

lovely head. 



THE DOUBLE DESERTION 43 

But she drew herself all bravely up — a smile was on 

her lips — 
Ah ! 'twas such a smile as comes but once, just ere the 

soul's eclipse — 
And she whispered, calm and clearly, though the words 

were very few, 
*' I am going, darling mother, and shall now desert you 

too." 
Then with hand above her heart she stopped, and 

deathly pale she grew. 

And she sank upon the floor, but gave no utterance of 

pain; 
Though all efforts to restore her were exerted, they 

were vain : 
Drooping like some lovely flower, that a careless hand 

hath flung. 
From the only rest it knew to love, and where it fondly 

clung. 
Fell the maiden, pale and dying, with those words upon 

her tongue. 



44 THE CRETAN MAID 

THE CRETAN MAID 

An Episode of the Cretan Insurrection in 1867 

I LIVED awhile at Arcadi, near Ida's rocky pile, 

The happiest child that you could find in all the Cretan 

isle. 
The good priests taught me many things that peasants 

seldom know ; 
In hidden lore unknown before I found my knowledge 

grow. 
And as with years I gained in strength — in stature 

gaining too — 
''It yet kept pace but ill," they said, ''with learning's 

swift accrue." 
I used to climb Mount Ida's side, and gaze upon the 

flood — 
^gean's purple sea that rolled, at sunset tinged with 

blood. 
Around our isle — and pondered there, as fancies wild 

and strange 
Came flitting by like birds in air, whose tireless pinions 

range 
Above, below, on every side, extending far and near 
Their errant course — no sooner gone than, lo ! they 

reappear. 
I oft looked o'er to Standia ; it seemed a little gem 
Set in a waving robe, I thought our island formed its 

hem. 



THE CRETAN MAID 45 

These purling brooks and streams that flow across from 
side to side 

Are little bands of velvet cord to promontories tied, 

To hold the grassy turf that forms a mantle, fresh and 
green. 

The cover of our mother isle ; and Standia, I ween. 

Must be her child, since by her side so closely there 
it stays. 

And never, fearing to be lost, to longer distance strays. 

Thoughts of a child, though pleasant ones ; more pleas- 
ure then I took 

In thinking such than now I find since all things wear 
a look 

Devoid of ideality ; the hues that once they wore. 

By sterner themes and time effaced, will come to them 
no more. 



At sixteen I removed to live on Sphakiot's rugged 

hill. 
Though sore indeed I wept to leave, and much against 

my will. 
My father's time was there employed — he wished to 

have me near ; 
My mother, long an invalid, increased his anxious fear. 
He trusted too that once with him, I would the sooner 

learn 
To love a shepherd-youth that I, against his will, did 

spurn. 



46 THE CRETAN MAID 

And so I went — a panting dove — a bird that would 

be free, 
While in its cage constrained to sing, its heart beats 

wearily. 
Five years I passed — the shepherd aye was pressing 

with his suit ; 
And when repulsed, would not forbear — my father, so 

astute, 
Would bid him hope: ** She'll have you yet — do not 

despair, my lad." 
While I would weep — my mother sigh — before him 

seeming glad. 
When those five years — sad lustrum 'twas — their 

round had made complete 
One day we heard — lost in surprise — of war com- 
menced in Crete. 
A neighbor brought the news to us — we all knew what 

he meant — 
"We must be broken now," said he, ''no longer will be 

bent." 

tIv "sf tJc v|c tw 'I* *|* 

O ye ! who freedom's birthright win, who shatter and 

destroy 
The barriers to conscience set, be joyful with great 

joy! 
Ye know not how great happiness, what treasure, ye 

have found ; 
There are who deeply yearn for this, by galling fetters 

bound. 
******* 



THE CRETAN MAID 47 

Full soon there came in zealous haste, a priest from 

Arcadi, 
To speak with us on Sphakiot's mount, and urge us to 

be free. 
The shepherds gathered far and near to listen to his 

word ; 
And I stood by, intenser fired each moment as I heard. 
Until at length I seized his robe, and cried and prayed 

togo — 
" Nay, nay, my child, it cannot be ! Do not detain me 

so ! 
"And, lass," my father whispered me, "you should not 

be so bold — 
Here's Cuthbert, noble lad, will go — you treat him 

haught and cold — 
Disdainfully you look on him — he loves with all his 

heart — 
His dearest wish — his sole desire — is this, that ere 

you part. 
He have assurance from your lips — one word to give 

him hope — 
That should he live — when all is o'er — the Moslem 

thraldom broke. 
Returning, he be welcomed as — But see, he draweth 

nigh ! 
A father makes his last request — his child, will she 

comply } " 
He said and turned. My pulses stopped — my throat 

was parched with fire. 
Convulsively I gasped for breath: "I'll do your will, 

my sire." 



48 THE CRETAN MAID 

And Cuthbert heard and bowed his head : " True love 

does not obey, 
I cannot take the hand you give — I free you from this 

day ! " 
And soon beyond my straining sight was marching for 

the field, 
With others of our noblest youth — Religion's living 

shield. 



As sunk the sun one autumn eve, I kissed my mother's 
cheek. 

Who, wearied by her toils that day, unconscious lay in 
sleep ; 

And by the lustrous stars set out with purpose long 
delayed. 

To seek my sire and Cuthbert's side — the Convent's 
leaguered shade. 

For in my breast was strange unrest ; a fervor ill-con- 
cealed 

Since they were gone, possessed my soul. My full in- 
tent revealed 

Within a note I left for her 'gainst she should wake 
next day, 

When I, too late for her recall, was far upon my 
way. 

With tireless step the livelong night, and guided by the 
moon, 

I pressed upon my anxious course. The sun was high 
at noon 



THE CRETAN MAID 49 

Before I reached the Convent's wall — the Turkish 

hordes around * 

Were safely passed — without demur my way within I 

found. 

******* 

"O Hero, why have you come here to tempt untoward 

fate, 
Since even now the foe press on, and thunder at our 

gate ? 
If we avoid a sudden doom — thus dark the prospect 

lowers — 
And 'scape the battle's deadly rage, more fearful lot 

is ours ; 
For worse by far captivity, the Moslem's vengeful 

hold, 
And Cretan maid should ne'er endure its misery 

untold." 
The good priest said — I would have knelt — "Abstain, 

'tis vanity ! 
Kneel to your God, when you would pray ; but, daugh- 
ter, not to me. 
Since you, a child, in fancies wild did mingle talk and 

play, 
I watched you, and as you grew old in learning's deeper 

way, 
And as the grace of womanhood its budding beauties 

bore. 
Your tutor's heart in secret burned with love for you 

the more. 



50 THE CRETAN MAID 

I fear to-morrow we must yield ! — Nay, pardon, 'tis 

not fear ! 
For if resistance sJiould be vain, my earthly end is near. 
One hope is left, one final trust, in you that hope 

remains; 
A secret mission must be filled, this billet all explains, 
Which I intrust. In some disguise your person must 

be dressed. 
Before the morrow's morn steal forth, you so will serve 

us best. 
When you have passed beyond the lines, hie swiftly to 

the shore, 
Peruse the billet then at dawn, for I can say no more." 
The good priest gazed within mine eyes, serenely, 

steadfast, long. 
Then touched his lips upon my brow, and I felt doubly 

strong. 
With anxious heart I left his side, strange fears were in 

my soul. 
But with a safe disguise, at length in silence forth I stole. 
By well-known ways I picked my path, the sentries 

safely passed. 
And reached beyond the Turkish lines a sheltered place 

at last. 

^f> ^ :j/> ^ ^ ^ ^ 

Just as the sun o'er ocean's brim his rising beams 

displayed, 
And all the gleaming mountain tops in sudden light 

arrayed, 



THE CRETAN MAID 5 1 

There came upon the ambient air a dull and distant 

sound, 
That smote my startled ears with dread, and shook the 

hills around. 
With one convulsive throe they shook, as when the 

stifled blast 
Of direful earthquake, long pent up, doth rive its way 

at last. 
A backward look I threw, and saw (my very brain did 

spin), 
A sight that I shall ne'er forget. Where Arcadi had 

been. 
High in the air a smoke arose, with scattered frag- 
ments vast. 
With many a streak of lurid flame the sky was 

overcast. 
And at that dull and dread report a sense of numbing 

pain. 
As if I lay in deadly swoon, oppressed my heart and 

brain. 
I looked again, as like a pall the darkness settled down. 
The fires died out, the fragments fell ! I neared Rhit- 

ymnae's town. 
The billet seized, with eager hand the slight seal open 

tore. 
And read these words : ** Dear Hero mine, you ne'er 

will see me more. 
I could not bear that you should die, and as a last 

resource, 
I bade you take this billet out, as far the wiser course. 



52 THE CRETAN MAID 

It was our only hope, I said — 'twas true, no dearer 

boon 
On earth than this could granted be that you should 

'scape — but soon, 
Before you open this perchance, my hands will fire the 

flame 
That with the morning's sun shall rise. Farewell." 

And then the name 
" Manissi," signed. It was his hand, 'twas he destroyed 

the fane. 
Fair Arcadi is now no more, the monastery's ta'en. 
Manissi, brave dead hero, from this deed of thine shall 

spring 
Remembrance — fame most glorious, with which the 

world shall ring. 
For me, come, blest oblivion ! O blue ^gean Sea, 
Thy scattered waves above me close, and set my spirit 

free. 



THE MAINE 53 



THE MAINE 

Beneath Havana's waters drear 

The shattered Maine is lying ; 
No more her gallant crew will hear 

The winds through cordage sighing, — 
No more the battle's shock be near, 

With guns to guns replying, — 
Their mangled forms to us appear — 

Their blood to us is crying ! 

What recreant heart would sue for peace 

To meet with Spain's denying? 
Behold starvation's swift increase — 

Behold the Cubans dying ! 
The wretched warfare now must cease, 

Or else, all power defying. 
Our arms must bring them safe release, 

Our flag o'er Spain's be flying ! 



54 OUR DESTINY 



OUR DESTINY 

For eight and twenty summers the earth has smiled on 

man, 
Producing golden harvests by Heaven's bounteous plan, 
Since first was heard from Sumter the cannon's opening 

roar 
That told of war's beginning — and hope of peace was 

o'er! 
And well do I remember that fateful April day 
That called from many a fireside the best beloved 

away — 
The sixteenth day of April — it dawned so bright and 

clear 
'Twas hard to think Rebellion with all its woes so near! 
But soon the troops were marching — the ranks they 

swiftly fill 
From foundry and from workshop — from counting- 
house and mill — 
We watched the train departing that takes them from 

our eyes, 
The first upon their journey to distant Southern skies, 
While tears and faltering accents betray the aching 

heart 
Of those they loved the dearest, compelled from them 

to part. 
So prompt were they to answer their country's urgent 

call, 
They won the proud distinction of being first of all. 



OUR DESTINY 55 

In vain were the endeavor of each event to tell 
Of what upon their progress of lesser note befell, 
But soon on board a transport they swiftly put to sea, 
And left the lights of Boston fast fading on their lee. 
At midnight of the nineteenth their little vessel lay 
Within the Southern waters awaiting for the day. 

The morning sun is bursting the misty clouds of night. 
And Chesapeake's blue waters are sparkling in the 

light. 
Save where a gloomy fortress frowns darkly o'er the 

wave. 
And all beneath its shadow is as silent as the grave. 
Upon its sullen ramparts, as first they come to view, 
His eager glances turning, gazes many a boy in blue, 
To see if from the flag-staff, when morning gun shall 

sound. 
In all its glory floating, the Stars and Stripes are found ; 
And loud the cheers resounding, when slowly on the 

air. 
Our country's flag, unfurling, displays its colors fair ! 
The vessel then draws nigher — beneath the frowning 

guns. 
To seek her proper moorings all fearlessly she runs. 

The lines are swiftly fastened, the gang-plank strikes 

the shore. 
And quickly disembarking the troops rejoicing pour. 
The first to gain a foothold upon the sacred soil. 
And make in old Virginia a Southern fort their spoil, 



56 OUR DESTINY 

Were troops of Massachusetts — and proudly in the van 
Was Company G of Taunton, whose triumphs thus 

began, 
And from this fair beginning the glorious record runs 
Through all that bloody contest of all our gallant sons. 
Great Bethel cries to Malvern — Port Hudson to 

Brashear — 
At Fair Oaks fell our bravest — and Mary's Heights 

cost dear. 
From Bull Run's first encounter to Gettysburg's last day 
At roll-call they were present, and ready for the fray. 
At Fredericksburg's great slaughter they stormed the 

heights in vain. 
At Gaines's Mill's fierce onset they shed their blood like 

rain. 
They made the march with Sherman from Atlanta to 

the sea 
In every duty faithful as ever men could be ! 

Among the deeds of daring that win immortal fame. 
And ever throw a halo upon a soldier's name. 
The storming of Port Hudson is one I wish to tell, 
For there it was our hero, the gallant Bartlett, fell. 
For days before Port Hudson the weary army lay, 
And gazed upon the ramparts, all eager for the fray. 
And when the word is given, how gallantly they go 
To storm the high entrenchments, well guarded by the 

foe! 
While gun to gun replying, with fierce volcanic breath. 
But urges on their ardor within the jaws of death. 



OUR DESTINY 57 

Above and all around them the sounds of horror swell — 
The pounding of the cannon — the bursting of the 

shell — 
The rapid fire of muskets — the grape-shot hurtling 

past — 
With many a wail of anguish — are borne upon the 

blast! 
It was a bloody slaughter, a sacrifice in vain, 
And gallant Bartlett fallen, is numbered with the slain. 
And if above his ashes there fall no friendly tear, 
No less his cherished memory to every heart is dear. 

And now another picture, most vividly defined 
In all its salient features, is present to my mind — 
There is a mighty river with waters flowing free 
Round many a jutting headland to mingle with the sea. 
The live-oaks spread their branches above the heaving 

tide, 
And groves of graceful palm-trees extend on every side ; 
Unto the gloomy cypress the pendent mosses cling. 
And birds of brilliant plumage are ever on the wing. 
The orange and magnolia in regal beauty grow 
And on the perfumed breezes delicious odors throw ; 
Within its mazy cane-brakes the tawny leopards hide. 
And oft the stealthy wild-cat comes creeping by their 

side. 
The raccoon and opossum, the bear with shaggy skin, 
The rattlesnake and moccasin, each has a home within. 
The hunted deer in safety might seek a shelter there, 
Nor fear in such seclusion the hunter's cruel snare. 



58 OUR DESTINY 

Among the waving grasses that haunt the river's brim 
Aquatic birds disporting in countless numbers swim. 
Within the dark morasses, with cypress overgrown, 
An army might be hiding, nor have their secret known; 
And oft from beds of rushes, whereon he likes to 

sleep, 
The alligator plunges within the slimy deep ; 
And when the Queen of Heaven awakes the gloomy 

night, 
And casts on every object a veil of silvery light. 
The scene is like enchantment, and never mortal eye 
Beheld a fairer picture beneath a fairer sky. 
'Twas thus my fancy painted in childhood's early 

dreams 
The mighty Mississippi — the paragon of streams. 
But when in times of danger its bank became a screen 
To shelter lurking foemen, who thence could strike 

unseen. 
It took a heart of courage to stem its mighty tide. 
And brave the hidden batteries deployed on either side. 
But see, there comes a gunboat around a distant bend. 
That through opposing currents her tireless engines 

send. 
The wooded heights above her show dimly fair and 

blue. 
While ploughs the gallant vessel the foaming waters 

through. 
Upon the deck is standing a young and stalwart form. 
Embrowned with long exposure, and battling with the 

storm, — 



OUR DESTINY 59 

His fearless eye is glancing from point to point around, 
Observant if the enemy may anywhere be found. 
But all is wrapped in silence, no signs of life appear. 
Remote seems every danger and idle every fear; 
When, like the crash of thunder from summer's cloud- 
less sky. 
There comes the roar of cannon, and echoes wild reply. 
And, ere the fading smoke-wreaths have ceased to curl 

and play, 
Upon that gallant vessel a bleeding victim lay. 
The fearless eye is glazing that looked upon the shore, 
The lids are gently closing that ne'er shall open more ; 
The heart that beats so faintly within the heaving 

breast 
Will have its labors over and soon will be at rest ; 
The limbs will stiffen slowly, all stark the body lie, — 
But still the fame of Swasey will live and never die. 
Full many are the heroes on honor's page enrolled, 
Beside the bright examples of whom my muse has told. 
But not to native valor must praise alone be due. 
There were who came among us — the noble and the 

true. 
Who joined in every danger, who fought on every 

field, 
Whose lives must first be ended ere they themselves 

would yield. 
Can those who love their country forget what they 

have done — 
Brave souls like those of Ruby — the father and the 

son } 



6o OUR DESTINY 

And if, on fields of battle, when strife is raging high, 
Contending for one's country, it glorious be to die ; 
When death comes swift and sudden — an instant and 

no more — 
To feel the pang of dying, and have the struggle o'er, — 
How doubly brave the soldier who has his wounds to 

bear. 
Who knows the battle useless, yet struggles with despair, 
Who lingers weak and weary — nor will his lips com- 
plain 
Through nights of constant languor and days of cease- 
less pain, — 
How brave and true that hero, and doubly blest at last, 
When Peace has dawned forever and all his pains are 

past ! 
'Twas such a noble courage, victorious over all* 
That marked the dauntless spirit of brave Lieutenant 

Paull. 
These instances are given where hundreds might be 

found, 
Each man as true a hero as those the laurel crowned 
Within the distant ages, when over every zone 
The Roman legions triumphed, and claimed the world 

their own. 
They bore disease and suffering — those noble, fearless 

men — 
At Andersonville and Libby — within the prison pen — 
They died to save their country on many a well-fought 

field — 
Her hope in time of danger, her refuge and her shield. 



OUR DESTINY 6l 

Like some proud ship dismasted, and torn by many a 

blast, 
That rides through storm and tempest, and reaches 

port at last, 
They came, each worn survivor, their years of struggle 

o'er, 
To seek their homes and firesides, and clasp their own 

once more. 
Some were by wounds disabled, and some by fevers 

worn. 
Of strength and pristine vigor by cruel hardship 

shorn. 
But they their lives have perilled — their health have 

lost in vain. 
If we, with tightened purse-strings, from needed help 

refrain. 
The widow and the orphan — the nation's wards are 

they — 
To them with liberal bounty let her the debt repay ! 
And every soldier living who stands to-day in need. 
Should know a generous treasury his wants will surely 

heed; 
Had they to us been faithless, nor stopped Rebellion's 

way. 
What prospect would the future to loyal hearts por- 
tray } 
Would now the expanding country be proudly, grandly 

free — 
Or to some foreign despot be forced to bend the 

knee ? 



62 OUR DESTINY 

What meant, in that great contest, success to loyal arms ? 
It meant industrial progress, and growing marts and 

farms ; 
It meant the South a wilderness no longer should re- 
main, 
That factories and work-shops should dot the hill and 

plain ; 
The treasures of the mountains, the power within the 

streams. 
Should yield, at man's endeavor, beyond his wildest 

dreams. 
It meant the end of slavery — that none on Southern 

soil 
Should bend beneath the burden of unrequited toil ; 
While slow and sure the leaven will work within the 

mass. 
And time will see the bondmen a higher, better class. 
The broad and distant prairies should all be ploughed 

and tilled. 
And with industrious labor each section should be 

filled. 
This country, the asylum for those from foreign lands, 
Should give them home and happiness, rich guerdon to 

their hands. 
No longer forced in armies to waste their manhood's 

dower. 
Through years of tedious service to grace some tyrant's 

power, 
In peace and calm contentment pursue their humble way, 
Rejoicing in the fortune that gives them leave to stay. 



OUR DESTINY 63 

'Tis education's province within the public school 

To burst the clouds of ignorance that mark the despot's 

rule. 
Shall we who now inherit this land 'neath freedom's 

sky — 
Hard won by blood and treasure — e'er pass its danger 

by? 
See e'er a blow insidious — or open though it be — 
Aimed at the purest sources of truth and liberty, 
Without such grand uprising and universal frown, 
As will at once prove fatal, and strike the danger down ? 
Let every free-born citizen so guide his growing years 
As best to curb that danger, and set at rest our fears. 

Let our adopted citizens their full allegiance give 

To those who rule this country, and do not elsewhere 

live. 
And in that blest millennium, beneath the future's sun. 
One hundred years of progress may find the problem 

done. 
Behold from Arctic Ocean unto the Southern Sea 
A country all united — a land and people free — 
From wild Atlantic's surges to broad Pacific's shore 
Columbia's banner floating triumphant evermore. 



64 THE SOLDIER'S RETURN 

THE SOLDIER'S RETURN 

See the veterans, home returning, 
In their breasts wild ardor burning, 

For their wives and sweethearts dear! 
Disappointment many meeting. 
When no darling gives them greeting ; 

Heaves the breast with anxious fear, 
Lest through peril and privation 
They have toiled and saved the nation. 

But have been forgotten here — 
Lest the ones they most have cherished 
Know nor care if they have perished. 

Nor are watching now to cheer ! 
As they scan the sea of faces. 
Who can wonder that the traces 

Of all gladness disappear, 
When the doubts within grow stronger 
That their love is theirs no longer ? 

Who can marvel at the tear 
Stealing slowly from the lashes. 
Bronzed hand impatient dashes. 

As it gleams a moment clear ? 
See yon hero turn, repressing 
Half his grief, some friend addressing, 

Whispering thus within his ear : — 

" Have our lives been saved in battle 
From the rudest shock, and rattle 
Of the musketry's uproar — 



THE SOLDIER'S RETURN 65 

From the storm, like hail, descending. 
Of the hurtling grape-shot, rending 

Everything that stood before — 
From the horsemen, madly dashing, 
With their sweeping sabres flashing, 

Whom their steeds, like Centaurs, bore, 
In the fiery, fierce collision 
Of the charge on our division. 

Where the grass grew red with gore, 
While the sunlight, faintly streaming. 
Shows the polished bayonet gleaming, 

As our hosts opposing pour. 
With our silken banners flaunting. 
And our gallant leaders vaunting 

There was victory in store — 
Then at home at last arriving. 
All our wounds and toils surviving, 

There should be none at the fore, 
Who would welcome, or embrace us, 
By the cheerful ' ingle ' place us. 

To recount our battles o'er ? " 

'' By the things that we hold dearest — 
By the tenderest, and the nearest — 

By the joy that we are free — 
By the grateful thanks we render 
To our country's true defender — 

Soldier, No, it cannot be ! 
Where the crowd is densest surging. 
From the midst of it emerging, 

Is a maiden ! Don't you see 



66 THE SOLDIER'S RETURN 

How she beckons you, with laughter, 
And with tears, quick following after, 

All excitement ? Man, 'tis she ! 
With her waving kerchief flowing. 
And her flaxen ringlets blowing 

All about her, in her glee, 
'Tis your sweetheart ! Now, surrender 
For the first time, brave defender 

Of your country, bow the knee, 
And acknowledge your repining; 
With her arms about you twining, 

Soon, I think, she will agree 
On a pardon and condonement; 
If you wish to make atonement, 

Get a ring, for clemency." 



THE LIGHT-BOAT 6^ 



THE LIGHT-BOAT 

The waters flow, old ocean roars ; 
And, far and near, along the shores 
The white surf dashes. 
Whitens and flashes. 

Laving the rocks in play. 
Andj out upon their heaving crests, 
The light-boat dances, and then breasts 
The huge waves welling, 
Bounding and swelling. 

Peacefully through the day. 

But, when the lightning blazes high. 
And thunder rolls along the sky. 
The storm-king daring. 
Fearless, unsparing, 

Holdeth the reins in hand. 
O'er raging seas, both fast and far, 
He rideth in his whirlwind car. 
And waves descending. 
Writhing and blending. 

Rush to the hard sea-sand. 

The light-boat then, while shining bright, 
And gladdening every sailor's sight. 
Doth strive, while gleaming, 
Battleth, while beaming. 

Scorning the storm-king's blows. 



68 THE LIGHT-BOAT 

And all his strength defies, resists, 
As mail-clad knight within the lists, 
Where blows ring loudly, 
Beareth him proudly. 
Conquering all his foes. 



THE SEA-GULL 69 



THE SEA-GULL 

I 
Borne by the gale, thou proud sea-gull, 

Thou sweep'st the realms of air; 
The mountain waves thy slumbers lull, 

Their cradle thou dost share. 
The steamer cleaves her snowy track, 

Be the sun or dull or clear. 
In peaceful hour, or tempest's wrack, 

And still thou hoverest near. 
Why hauntest thou this floating home, 

Three thousand miles and more, 
O'er trackless wastes of ocean's foam, 

Where countless billows pour .'' 
Art thou some spirit, all unblessed. 

No night or day transpires 
To suffer thee to gain that rest. 

Thy longing soul desires ? 
What means the cry thy worn heart gave. 

As thou went'st sweeping by 
As daylight fades beyond the wave. 

Far in the western sky ? 

II 

Again thou comest nigh, 
And sailest through the sky, 
With white wings spread — 



«0 THE SEA-GULL 

Above the cloud-capped waves, 
In whose unfathomed caves 

Lie bones of ancient dead! 
What recks the empty skull 
If days be bright or dull, 

The vacant sockets' stare ! 
What now are joys of earth — 
Its pastimes, or its mirth — 
Its ladies bright and fair! 
The bones on Ocean's floor, 
If they could rise once more. 

And veins with life could fill ; 
If silent lips could speak. 
What crimes would blanch the cheek, 

And tales of fearful ill ! 
The hand that held the sword, 
That sprung at idle word. 

When Vikings crossed the sea — 
Again in deadly grip 
With blood would foully drip. 

And direful things would be! 
"Art thou some corsair bold. 
That still retainest hold. 

On treasures in the deep? 
That watchest night and day. 
Where sepulchred they lay. 

And nevermore canst sleep ? 
For past and fearful crime. 
Until the end of Time, 

And thou art then set free, 



THE SEA-GULL 7 1 

Must on the nightly blast 
Thy silent wings go past, 
And sweep across the sea?" 



Ill 

"My spirit floating here, 
That thou beholdest near, 
Forever seeks its mate! 
She perished, all unknown. 
When the storms of night had blown, 

And the waves were mad with hate ! 
Wild waters swept the deck — 
The faintly heaving wreck 

Soon sunk from mortal sight! 
There was a stifled cry — 
The shrieking winds went by 

That calmed with morning's light! 
But o'er the broad expanse, 
As far as eye could glance, 
No sign of life was seen! 
Down many a fathom deep 
They slept their dreamless sleep — 

Both she, and all, I ween. 
And I, since youthful prime. 
Must haunt the shore of Time, 

Nor can I find release! 
How mild soe'er the day 
When light or shadows play 
My heart will feel no peace! 



72 THE SEA-GULL 

Forever I must go, 

In pain, and hopeless woe, 

Till Time shall be no more 
And then my happy breast 
Will find a peaceful rest 

On some immortal §hore." 



A GOOD SHIP AND A GALLANT CREW 73 



A GOOD SHIP AND A GALLANT CREW 

The watery main before my eyes, 

The murky clouds above me, 
Beneath my feet a ship that flies 

To home and friends that love me. 

No other sail or ship is seen. 

No sentient life around me; 
Upheaving waves the hull careen, 

And surges white surround me. 

But hark ! the gale comes rising high, 
The tautened cordage cracking ; 

And plunging forward the ship doth fly. 
Nor speed nor courage lacking. 

O'er wave, o'er sea, o'er mound, o'er hill, 

Down mighty hollows gliding. 
She moves apace, and spurns them still. 

Serenely onward riding. 



74 WAVES 



WAVES 

Waves, voracious, devouring, 

Thy hollow chasms yawning. 
White-crested, pouring thy might, 

Skyward sending thy spray ! 
Above ye a sky, 

Gloomy and lowering ; 
Strong is our shallop, 

Bounding, careering, 
Borne on thy shoulders. 

Swiftly, right swiftly, 
And thyself scorning ! 

Dark grow the billows, 
Let them grow darker ! 

Here is our helmsman, 
True and undaunted, 

He will look forward, 
Firmly controlling. 

All through the darkness. 
Till bright comes the morning. 



THE FAIR HARBOR 75 



THE FAIR HARBOR 

Beyond the wave 

There lies a fair harbor; 
Over the water 

There's a friendly shore ; 
And a Beacon light beaming, 
Where bright eyes are dreaming, 
And fond lips are calling 

Me o'er and o'er. 



76 JOY AND SUNLIGHT 



JOY AND SUNLIGHT 

Curling breeze, and swelling sail, 
Bear us o'er the Ocean's swale ; 
Jocund hearts, and spirits gay. 
Smiling, smiling all the way ! 
Little fleets of smaller craft 
Fear to breast the billow's path. 
But we trust our cordage stout, 
Run and luff, and come about. 



THE SEA-NYMPH 77 



THE SEA-NYMPH 

The profound roars of ocean 
Its hungry heart betray; 

While scattered sea-mews follow, 
And linger on our way ; 

And o'er the vessel's foretop 
Come driving sheets of spray. 

Anon she plunges downward, 
The foam beneath her falls; 

The baffled surge, retiring, 
In wrinkled surface crawls : 

And lo ! beneath most sweetly 
A luring sea-nymph calls. 

She calls the broken-hearted, 
She smiles upon their tears; 

" Come find within my bosom 
The vanished peace of years; 

Forever hear my murmurs 
Within thy happy ears. 

My arms shall be about thee, 
My kisses on thy brow : 

Oh, come from thy distresses, 
Oh, listen to my vow! 

And peace shall be thy heritage 
Oh, come and join me now. 



y8 ■ THE SEA-NYMPH 

Come, plunge to meet thy loved one, 

Forever more to stay : 
See how the curling foam-wreaths 

About us both will play ! 
See how the hours of sunshine 

Will gladly pass away. 

And dost thou shrink to meet me, 
Who follow thee so far ? 

Dost think within thy heavens 
There shines a brighter star ? 

Or any sun of noonday 

Will fortune make or mar ? " 

" Thou tempt'st me sorely, siren, 

I hear thy loving call ; 
Thy words of tender greeting 

Like gentle dewdrops fall : 
And when the heart is wretched, 

The grave is best of all. 

I see thine eyes of welcome. 
That shine so fond and true ; 

Thine arms of snowy whiteness 
Beneath the waters blue ; 

Thy hair of silken twining, 
And lips of coral hue. 

I know that thou art happy 
Beneath thy coral caves ; 



THE SEA-NYMPH 79 

That blest with youth immortal, 
Thou roamest the ocean waves, 

Sea-monsters at thy summons 
Attend thee, as thy slaves. 

No storms can bring thee danger, 

No tempests cause alarm ; 
Within thy silent chamber 

Bides perfect peace and calm ; 
And, if I were beside thee, 

No mortal power could harm. 

But, 'mid those paths of pleasure. 

Where thou art wont to roam, 
Amid the sparkling breakers. 

And curling wreaths of foam. 
Canst find a greater treasure 

Than happiness and home ? " 



8o THE OCEAN 



THE OCEAN 



Waves, waves, waters, waters — 

Waters, waters, waves, waves, 
How many earth-born sons and daughters 

Have you taken down to their graves ! 
Glittering and gleaming, with treacherous breast. 

Sparkling and shining beneath the bright sun, 
How can thy conscience be ever at rest — 

Thinking of thy terrible victories won ! 
Wrecks of the fairest, hopes of the bravest, 
Entranced by thy smile where gently thou lavest 
The rocks and the crags, and the chasms so bold — 
Where thrown in thine anger, their corpses are cold ! 
Oh ! the wrong and the misery thy heart could unfold. 
And the terrible secrets thy bosom must hold ! 

Waves, waves, roaring, pouring. 

Thundering thy paeans on a pitiless beach ! 
Rolling and groaning, and tossing and moaning. 

Clutching and grasping for all in thy reach ! 
Such marvels and wonders far down in the deeps, 
Amid which the Kraken and octopus sleeps — 
Such treasures of gold coin which skeleton hands 
Still hold in their grasp, 'mid the rock-weed and sands. 
Ah ! 'tis pitiful, fearful, and makes the heart bleed, 
To think of thine anger, and merciless greed. 



THE PRAIRIES 8 1 



THE PRAIRIES 

The prairies stretch around me, remote from every eye ; 
The breezes curl the grasses and gently pass me by; 
The little birds come to my feet and sing their matin 

songs ; 
The cricket in the distance his symphony prolongs ; 
The butterfly on poised wings goes trembling through 

the air, 
Or on the nodding thistle displays his colors fair. 
The chatter of the blackbird, the calling of the quail. 
The great hawk, sweeping slowly, like corsair on the 

gale — 
The buzzing bee, whose busy flight doth seek the willow 

screen, 
Beneath whose sheltering canopy I watch this fairy 

scene, — 
Delight my heart in solitude, God's creatures who are 

there 
Dispel the world's delusions, its folly and its care. 

Campbell, Minn., Jtily, 1883. 



82 THE EVENING FAIRY 



THE EVENING FAIRY 

Oh ! I am the little fairy that floats in the evening sky, 
Wherever the steeds of the twilight on their shadowy 

wings fleet by : 
And I float o'er the dim old headlands, and the shining 

sands of the shore 
Lit up from the fire in the cottage, as it gleams through 

the open door. 
When the toil of the day is over, and the housewife 

rocks in her chair. 
And her children gather about her, in response to her 

loving care : 
And I watch o'er the homes of the people through the 

long, dull hours of the night. 
Whose hearts I know are in unison with the good and 

the pure and the right ; 
And I bless them, each in their station, whether poor or 

enriched by gain ; 
And I rejoice with them in their pleasure, and I weep 

with them in their pain : 
But over the homes of the wicked I pass with averted 

. eye. 
For I know that they will be punished, when the Ruler 

of all comes by. 

POCASSET, 1885. 



TWILIGHT 83 



TWILIGHT 

I LOVE to sit at twilight dim, 

And watch the shadows gray 
Come moving on in phalanx grim, 

And o'er the landscape play ; 
While all around is hushed and still, 
The pulses beat with milder thrill, 

The senses outward stray ; 
And far beyond the starlight skies 
My panting soul doth seek to rise. 



Harvard, i860. 



84 TO SUE 



TO SUE 

I 

Ye stars that shine so brightly, 
That watch and guard me nightly, 

While distantly I roam — 
That smile upon my dreaming, 
With tender radiance streaming. 

Oh, watch and guard my home ! 

II 
Oh, shine upon those nearest 
Unto my heart — the dearest — 

My loved ones o'er the sea; 
Until, again returning. 
My heart may cease its yearning, 

And they rejoice with me. 



London, Januajy 5, 1895. 



MAY-DAY WOOING 85 



MAY-DAY WOOING 

The earth it lay in light and shade, 

As through the clouds the sunlight played, 

The fields in green were all arrayed, 

And lovely was the dawning ; 
As o'er the stream, and o'er the hill. 
While on the air, so faint and still 
The linnet's sweet and gentle trill 

Was wafted all the morning. 

I took my way, in pensive mood, 
To her I long in vain had wooed. 
In vain had sought, in vain pursued. 

And mostly met with scorning ; 
And still I sighed, and still I prayed. 
And sought to please the careless maid, 
Until my heart was sore afraid 

She thought me falsely fawning. 

I saw her just within the door. 
Where oft I'd been with her before, 
At morn and eve in days of yore, 

So still, I thought her dreaming ; 
For never yet, by night or day. 
Her bounding spirits ceased their play, 
Or sadness chased her joy away. 

One moment to all seeming. 



S6 MAY-DAY WOOING 

My doubts they fled, as I drew nigh, 
And caught the flash of her dark eye, 
As bright as lightning from the sky, 

When through the darkness streaming. 
Her mellow voice, so sweet and clear, 
'Twas like some angel's who her sphere 
Had left, to bide 'midst mortals here, 

In all her brightness beaming. 

Accosted me : " Sir Harry, pray, 
Have you forgot 'tis first of May, 
And loiter thus with such delay 

That all the rest before us 
Will surely cull the better flowers, 
Of which at least some should be ours. 
Unless you think to waste the hours. 

Which time will not restore us ? " 

"Ah! sweet," said I, "reprove me not, 
I know a lone and hidden spot. 
Where I am sure there can be got, 

Although the rest ignore us. 
Most lovely flowers, to weave a crown 
To place amongst thy tresses brown. 
And I will answer with a frown 

All those who may implore us 

To speak to them, and tell them where 
We got our flowers, so fresh and fair. 
To twine amidst the waving hair, 
Which o'er thy neck is stealing. 



MAY-DAY WOOING 8/ 

I'll leave them all to hunt in vain, 
And surely they cannot complain, 
Since they themselves did not refrain. 
In wanton mood and feeling, 

From leaving us to find our way, 
Nor cared if we should go astray, 
So long as they were free and gay, 

And spent the moments fleeting." 
As thus I spoke, the maiden bright 
Upon me threw a glance of light. 
So like the sunshine to the sight, 

I shrank from it when meeting. 

A smile played o'er her lips as sweet 
As ever mortal man did greet. 
Whene'er he chanced his love to meet; 

And silvery outflowing. 
Her witching tones spoke their reply, 
Which with the glances of her eye, 
Made me elate ; the reason why 

Mere words would fail in showing. 

" A moment wait, and I will go 

To that sweet spot you say you know, 

Where bright Mayflowers are sure to grow." 

'Twas thus she spoke, ere turning. 
She went within, to say good-by 
To her old mother, sitting nigh. 
Whose heart betrayed in her reply 

Its tenderness and yearning. 



88 MAY-DAY WOOING 

She soon came back — no words can tell 
The joy I felt, as through the dell, 
And o'er the green and mossy fell, 

Still calm retreats invading 
We wandered on : the while her cheek, 
As any rose was flushed as deep — 
Ah ! such a glow 'twere vain to seek 

By artificial shading. 

At length we reached the distant hill. 
Where crossing first a tinkling rill 
Upon a log, which lay there still, 

As first it fell in cutting, 
We trod the path adown its side 
To where a dell spread far and wide ; 
A sweeter spot I ne'er descried, 

A rugged cliff o'erjutting. 

" Ah ! here how sweet to sit and dream, 

And listen to the gentle stream ; 

While through the branches faintly gleam 

The rays from which they hide you. 
How sv/eet to sit at eventide, 
And watch the solemn shadows glide, 
And shroud in gloom the hill's broad side. 

With one you love beside you ! " 

These words I spoke so faint and low, 
I knew they, midst the brooklet's flow, 
Unheard by her would surely go ; 
To whom I feared revealing 



MAY-DAY WOOING . 89 

The love that bided in my breast, 
And ever caused my soul's unrest ; 
For oft before I had confessed 
In vain to her, concealing 

The love she felt. How could I know, 
That hid beneath that breast of snow, 
She felt so warm, so pure a glow, 

So bright and chaste a feeling, 
For one who heartless deemed the fair ; 
;But had he known the feeling there, 
It would have roused him from despair, 

And set his pulses reeling ! 
***** 
Where gave an elm protecting shade, 
In cool retreat reclined the maid. 
And twined the flowers in simple braid 

To place amidst her tresses. 
And I stood by in absent mind. 
And watched the boughs wave in the wind. 
As all the leaves together twined 

In amorous caresses. 

Until at length I roused my heart. 
And bade all fear from it depart. 
For I would try the manly part. 

And bid farewell to sighing : 
And she should say without deceit. 
If in her heart's secure retreat 
A love to mine responsive beat. 

To be fore'er undying. 



90 MAY-DAY WOOING 

But as I pondered with delay, 
For much I feared the answer nay, 
The charmer, in a saucy way. 

Her Hly hand upraising. 
Showed me, all bright with drops of dew, 
A lovely flower, whose roseate hue 
Betrayed the stalk whereon it grew. 

In sooth well worth one's praising. 

And in a sweet, melodious tone. 
Such as her voice could breathe alone. 
She shyly asked, if I had known 

A flower which e'er seemed brighter. 
I told her, yes, I did know one, 
More bright than ever yet the sun 
Had kissed since first the world begun, 

And knew it would delight her — 

If she was fond, as women are. 
Of being told they're brighter far 
Than any flower or any star : 

And thus a hope shot o'er me.- 
Of course she asked, I knew she would, 
" Where is that flower ? " Awhile I stood. 
Then whispered low, as lovers should, 

" I see it now before me." 

A burning blush with rapid flow 
Deep bathed in red her bosom's snow. 
And dyed her cheek with carmine glow ; 
And ah ! the glance she threw me : 



MAY-DAY WOOING 

It told me more than words could tell 
And from my heart dejection fell, 
Like mist that summer suns dispel, 
For all her love it shew me. 

Ah ! lovely day, thy dawning bright. 
Though clothing all the earth with light, 
I ne'er had thought such pure delight 

Would bring to me despairing. 
How great the hopes and joys divine 
That ere the waning sun's decline. 
Were felt by me, O heart of mine. 

Thy throbbing is declaring! 



91 



92 THE EXILE'S RETURN 



THE EXILE'S RETURN 

Old Ireland, my native land, 

I see thee once again — 
Long years have passed since I left thee, 

To sail across the main, 
A blooming lad, with heart of joy, 

And hopes so bright and free, 
That I should make my fortune soon, 

And then return to thee, 
My sweetheart here, my dear colleen, 

That lived 'neath Darragh hill, 
I wonder if she'd know me now — 

And would she love me still ? 
How often here at day's decline 

I've sought this lonely spot. 
And whistled soft to call my love — 

Oh ! can she have forgot ? 
Ah ! could I see that dear lass now — 

Each year she's dearer grown — 
I'd throw my fortune at her feet, 

And she should be my own. 
And should I whistle for her now, 

To meet her listening ear, 
I wonder if 'twould please her still, 

And gladly she would hear. 
I scarcely dare to make attempt ; 

For if I should, and fail, 



THE EXILE'S RETURN 

'Twould break my heart, and I again 

From Ireland would sail. 
** Faint heart fayre ladye never won," 

I've often heard them say ; 
I'll whistle soft, and whistle low — 

Nor longer will delay. 
Upon this mossy stone I'll sit, 

As oft I've done before, 
And watched the stars bedeck the sky, 

And moon come shining o'er. 
And all I ask is for her lips 

To say to me, " Remain " ; 
And all my life I'll cherish her, 

And be her loving swain. 



93 



94 SHE SLEEPS 



SHE SLEEPS 

She sleeps ! No more to her 
The flower of vermeil hue — 

The gentle summer shower, 
Or softly falling dew. 

The flowers above her breast 
With gentle whisper say : 

" The one we loved the best 
From earth has passed away.' 

And where she lies at rest, 
Each piteous bending spray 

Doth bow, at Love's behest, 
With grief for her alway. 

With nodding heads the pines 
Seem murmurous to sigh, 

As each to each inclines : 
" She was too young to die. 

Why comes she not again 
Beneath our loving shade. 

With lightsome steps to play. 
As once before she played ? 

Where has our loved one gone - 
We look for her in vain ; 

We grieve, and are forlorn — 
Why comes she not again ? " 



SHE SLEEPS 95 

Alas ! There is no aid 

For either flower or tree ; 
No hope for grief allayed, 

And least of all for me. 

The stalk and branches fall — 
At their heart feeds old decay — 

Just as at mine sad grief 
Consumes the life away. 



96 THE OLD CHURCH BELL 



THE OLD CHURCH BELL 

Through the blue mist pealing, 
Over the blue wave stealing, 
Peace to my soul revealing, 

Comes the sound of the old church bell. 



THE SOLITARY 97 



THE SOLITARY 

He rested where broad pines did weave their fronds, 

And cool with gentle currents all the air ; 
And writhe their arms, like prisoners in their bonds, — 

The spiders' mesh the only bonds they wear ; 

With every rougher motion sure to tear. 
Great, mossy oaks, with acorns dropping down. 

And plenteous beech-trees the distant spaces share, 
And now their leaves were growing sear and brown, 
Touched by the breath of autumn and her frown. 



98 'COON-HUNTING 



'COON-HUNTING 

Did you ever hunt a 'coon 

By the Hght of the moon, — 

And listen to the sound 

Of the mellow-throated hound, 

As he opens on the view — 

As he sniffs the tainted dew ? 

Have you scrambled over logs, 

Behind a pack of dogs ? 

Have you waded through the mire. 

Have you struggled with a brier, 

That has caught you in a brake, 

And entwined you like a snake ? 

Have you worried — have you sweat 

Have you finished in a fret ? 

If you haven't, then, beware ! 

It is sport ! and I declare 

None but sportsmen, tried and true, 

Twice would venture so to do. 



NATURE^S PROSPECT 99 



NATURE'S PROSPECT 

Ye fields, outspread in beauty, 

And over-bending skies, 
I pause awhile from study. 

To rest my weary eyes, — 
To gaze upon the prospect 

Kind Nature's hand supplies — 
Where she intermingles fragrance 

With the splendour of her dyes — 
Where the bird upon the hawthorn 

In security is blest. 
And sings a cheerful ditty 

To his mate within the nest ; 
And ruffles up his plumage. 

And prunes his little breast, 
Ere he speeds on airy pinions 

For the food that she loves best. 



100 SONG OF THE FRENCH MOUSQUETAIRES 



SONG OF THE FRENCH MOUSQUETAIRES 

" MoN coeur volage, dit elle, 

N'est pour vous, gargon ; 
Est pour un homme de guerre, 

Qui a barb au menton. 

Qui porte chapeau et plume — 

Soulier et rouge talon — 
Qui joui a la fluto, 

Aussi le violon." 

This lightsome heart, my simple boy. 

You need not strive to win ; 
A soldier lad is all my joy, 

With a beard upon his chin. 

A fleecy plume is in his hat — 

His spurs of sanguine hue — 
You play the flute ? why, he does that. 

And sometimes fiddles, too. 



AN IMPROMPTU " lOI 



AN IMPROMPTU 

Oh, ask me not, ye lovely girls, 

About this " red, red rose " ; 
For on your cheeks, half hid by curls, 

A rose of beauty glows — 
Of beauty far — yes, far more bright, 

Than blush'd where red rose sprung. 
When first its petals saw the light. 

And dewdrops on them hung. 
Ah ! could he call the rosedew sweet, 

Who once that nectar sips. 
That sweetest sweet, where all is sweet. 

The dew of maiden lips ? 



I02 VILLAGE CHRONICLES 

VILLAGE CHRONICLES 
No. I 

THE FIGHT IN THE VILLAGE GLEN. A TALE FOR THE 

DOG-DAYS 

When the dog-days come, and it is hot, 

And dogs run mad, or they do not, 

In consequence — a fact which I 

Stop not to prove, nor yet deny — 

It sometimes haps — how, I will tell — 

That men of sense run mad as well. 

A case in point I will adduce : 

Two farmers, '' sound upon the goose," 

In disputatious mood began 

To argue on "the rights of man "; 

From words to blows they had recourse — 

Perhaps they thought that greater force 

To what they said was thus conveyed. 

And proved besides they weren't afraid. 

Whate'er they thought, 'twas their intent. 

To give those thoughts no further vent ; 

But each would make the other know 

His fist could deal a sturdy blow. 

When they began 'twas warm enough, 

And lack of wind soon made them puff. 

One threw aside his coat and vest, 

And then " pitched in " with added zest ; 



VILLAGE CHRONICLES 103 

The other doffed his vest and coat, 
And bared his arms and brawny throat. 
They strove and tussled, gouged and bit, 
And neither gained nor gave a whit. 
Each had a dog, which now began. 
To scratch and growl, his rage to fan ; 
For seeing thus their masters' plight, 
They wished themselves to have a fight. 
Though well enough disposed before. 
They now commenced to rage and roar ; 
And grabbed each other fast and firm. 
Quite " like a bull-dog " — that's a term 
Employed by " Forester," you know, 
In work of his some years ago. 
Not long they fought ere to the spot 
The neighbors came, amazed I wot, 
At such a scene within their glen — 
Two fighting dogs, two fighting men, 
Whose tout ensemble was so strange ; 
For ''rough and tumbles " disarrange 
One's fine appearance — they so long 
Had been at it, and were so strong. 
The very pantaloons they wore 
Now clad their rugged shanks no more. 
Their shirts were rent, and " in the gale," 
Gleamed like some torn and tattered sail ; 
While they with heaving flanks did strain, 
In hopes some vantage-ground to gain. 
The neighbors cheered, and at the sound, 
The fierce contestants looked around. 



104 VILLAGE CHRONICLES 

How in distress new fire it lends 

To see at hand a score of friends, 

Who give advice as best they can. 

And tell one how to whip his man ! 

So was it then — the twain renewed 

The fight with all the zeal imbued 

They had at first, when first began 

The '* Reign of Blows," and " claret" ran, 

And sadly left the cherished throne 

By " right divine " that was its own. 

For sad indeed, as I suppose, 

Must " claret " feel to leave the nose. 

Eftsoons the matrons hastened near, 

Half-choked with doubt, and pale with fear. 

Then came the maidens, lithe and tall, 

And toddling children last of all. 

They reached the scene — among the crowd 

The two men's wives, both bawling loud : 

" If they had such a husband, they 

Would like to see him act that way, 

And dare disgrace himself and her ! " 

When some one whispered, '' Lawks! they were." 

One rapid look the vixens cast. 

Then through their neighbors rushing fast. 

They reached the ring, — when to the name 

Of husband be it lasting shame, — 

Each brutish man — what husband feels ? — 

Seized on his spouse by neck and heels. 

And with a swing and sudden pitch, 

Propelled her headlong to a ditch. 



VILLAGE CHRONICLES lOS 

And while their yells in mud were drowned, 

The husbands had another round. 

The neighbors wished to interfere, 

"Because," said they, *'the case is clear, 

They, of themselves, will never cease, 

And should be made to keep the peace." 

They called a minion of the law, 

A creature whose prehensile claw 

They hoped the contest then would close, 

And put an end to further blows. 

He reached the spot and broke the ring — 

Bade them to stop — " Do no such thing ! " 

The quick reply ; and, ere he thought. 

Each had him round the body caught, 

With " One, two, three," they tossed him far 

Above the crowd; with heavy jar 

Upon an apiary in the glen 

He headlong fell, and straightway then 

The hive was crushed, the swarm flew out, 

And put the neighbors all to rout. 

The lawyer led the way with speed ; 

His " rate " the " Deer's " ^ would far exceed. 

The women too from mud got free, 

And with the rest did swiftly flee. 

The men and dogs kept on their fun, 

And fought as if they'd just begun, 

Until 'twas night — they then agreed 

Some other time they would proceed 

1 Jackson, otherwise called the " American Deer/' the celebrated pedes- 
trian, is alluded to in the above line. 



I06 VILLAGE CHRONICLES 

To have it out, and should I hear 
That they had done so, never fear 
But what, dear Spirit, I'll relate 
The whole to you, and tell their fate. 



VILLAGE CHRONICLES 10/ 

No. II 

THE RECONCILIATION 

Full hard it was for those two men 
To make their way towards home again ; 
For they were badly cut and bruised, 
With every feature so contused, 
Their bhndness forced them oft to stay 
Their halting footsteps on the way 
In fear lest they, without a guide. 
Might wander in the dark aside ; 
While many a purple mark impressed 
Above their ribs would well attest 
How deep and stubborn was their grit. 
Such blows should fail to vanquish it. 
But when each doubtful turn was past, 
And they had reached their homes at last, 
Then straightway both retired to bed, 
To ease their limbs and aching head ; 
But courted Somnus' arms in vain, 
Nor would each weeping wife refrain, 
While bandaging their heads with ice. 
Betwixt her sobs from good advice. 
The husbands tossed from side to side, 
And cursed the louder as they cried. 
But when Aurora smiUng rose, 
Disturbing Tithon's deep repose. 
And from his blankets deftly cleared. 
And in the eastern verge appeared. 



I08 VILLAGE CHRONICLES 

Each husband bade his weepmg spouse 
To dry her tears, or leave the house : 
For they were sick of lying there, 
With aches enough to make them swear, 
Without additions such as those, 
To aggravate them in their woes. 
The wives alarmed straightway complied, 
And brushed each trickling tear aside : 
Well pleased at this each husband pressed 
Upon his spouse a bold request, 
To fill a glass — he was so dry — 
With rum his thirst to satisfy. 
Then at a draught, to their renown 
And praise I say it, drank it down. 
Soon fired by this, they needed more ; 
And ordered forth the cherished store 
Of liquors, long retained in charge. 
In bottles small and bottles large. 
And freely drank, and poured it out, 
Till neither felt the slightest doubt 
That he with ease his man could whip, 
If he but had him in his grip ; 
And treat him to such usage rough 
That he would gladly cry enough. 
Thus each succeeding glass increased 
Their courage till the liquor ceased ; 
Then each his tearful spouse addressed, 
Nor gave his maudlin humor rest ; 
And one compared himself with wit 
To Wellington and William Pitt; 



VILLAGE CHRONICLES 109 

And proved beyond a legal doubt, 

That he had worth that should come out ; 

And showed beside that some disguise 

Doth always cloak the brave and wise, 

And shroud their actions from the view 

Of common folks, who, if they knew 

Their native worth, would all be glad 

To show what deep respect they had. 

The other was the peer, God wot, 

Of Marshal Ney and Walter Scott ; 

The first was brave, but not a whit 

More so than he — in proof of it 

He called to mind his contest o'er. 

And reckoned bruises by the score ! 

Then stopped awhile, but when he broke 

His transient musings, thus he spoke : 

*' And as for Walter Scott, I hear 

He wrote some verses ; now 'tis clear, 

I have such power in double bass. 

That every song an added grace 

Would gain from me, and I should tear 

The laurels from Sir Walter's hair." 

'Twas thus they .boozed away the hours. 

Until they went beyond the powers 

Of human nature to withstand ; 

Yet in their slumbers they demand 

" More drink," as sots will often do. 

When they are parched and fevered through. 

But strange to say, when they awoke. 

As in their rooms the sunlight broke, 



no VILLAGE CHRONICLES 

They found their soreness all removed, 

And felt their spirits much improved. 

That rum or brandy could effect 

So strange a cure, none would expect ; 

Though I suppose that few would care. 

Like them, to try its virtues rare. 

Soon both arose, and ventured out, 

To learn if 'tother was about ; 

With little thought that they should meet, 

As soon they did, upon the street. 

And thereupon they could but smile. 

Though striving to be stern the while ; 

But one observed, " Good-morrow, friend, 

Pray let this day our madness end." 

The other said, " Most worthy sir. 

We've shown our pluck, what fools we were." 

They then shook hands — 'twas thus decreed 

From their chance meeting should proceed 

A friendship destined to endure. 

With greater strength improved and pure. 

Till both shall fill their little day. 

And slumber with their kindred clay. 



VILLAGE CHRONICLES in 

No. Ill 

THE FORTUNE-TELLER 

'TwAS just at night, the breeze was down 

And nature's face without a frown ; 

The tree-toads piped in shrillest keys, 

On highest branches at their ease. 

Those airy sprites were on the wing, 

Whose song is sweet, but not their sting, 

" Mosquitoes " yclept, that pierce your skin. 

And thrust their sharp proboscis in ; 

And for each drop of blood you lose, 

As much of poison will infuse. 

As in the marsh he cleared his throat. 

Resounded oft the bull-frog's note. 

The katydid, in hot dispute. 

Seemed angered at the owlets' " hoot," 

As if it some reflection lent 

" In bar " of her fierce argument. 

As darkness stole across the mead. 

The farmer checked his weary steed. 

That all day long with patient toil 

Had drawn the ploughshare thro' the soil ; 

Or homeward urged his loaded wain. 

With oxen yoked, across the plain. 

The chickens sought (poor sleepy things) 

Their mother hen's protecting wings. 

While milch-cows, pied, brown, and red. 

Stood ruminating 'neath the shed ; 



112 VILLAGE CHRONICLES 

Or bellowed, till the woodland side 

Responsive echoes multiplied. 

In peace and comfort rested all, 

As night her dusky robe let fall. 

About this time you might have seen 

A student pacing o'er the green — 

I have good proof that this was so, 

For sundry gossips saw him go — 

To make a call on Miss Levine, 

And all his dress was extra fine : 

Upon his head a ''cady" sat, 

A ne plus ultra of a hat — 

The latest style, such as one sees 

On "bang-up" swells, or men of ease. 

A fine cheroot, betwixt his teeth, 

Enclosed him with a fragrant wreath. 

He lightly swung a slim " rattan," 

And at his heels a setter ran ; 

As to the rest, the tailor's art 

Had made a fit in every part. 

Ere long he reached his lady's door. 

Knocked, entered, and came out no more 

Until 'twas nearly break of day — 

"Just five o'clock," the gossips say. 

But I will tell you, reader mine, 

Unless perusal you decline. 

Without desire to read the rest, 

It was 2i'calu7nny, at best. 

The student and the lady both 

(Though I confess I'm somewhat loth, 



VILLAGE CHRONICLES II3 

Nor would I now, unless I thought 

In such a case as this I ought 

To tell the secrets of the fair) 

Emerged again to outer air : 

But by a doorway in the rear — 

The cause of this will soon appear. 

An old maid lived across the way, 

Who, should she see them, would betray 

The fact to all, with feigned surprise, 

To magnify it in their eyes ; 

And Miss Levine knew this full well. 

I think by instinct women tell 

The surest way of sifting out 

Each other's nature, when in doubt. 

Be this as may be, I'm sincere 

In wishing always to be clear 

Of spinster maids, whose forty years. 

Grant them " exemption rights " from fears, 

Such as in younger heads might be, 

Concerning breach of chastity. 

From apparitions such as these 

The most complacent mortal flees. 

The twain stepped out, as I have said, 

And to a fortune-teller sped. 

When I was young, how long ago ! 

Men spoke of such and whispered low ; 

For none could tell what power they had 

To thwart the good, or aid the bad ; 

And each one feared the aged crone 

Beside the swamp that dwelt alone. 



114 VILLAGE CHRONICLES 

To seek some withered hag like this, 

The two went forth — he stole a kiss 

From her bright lips, just at the bog; 

Then helped her cross it on a log. 

Through devious ways they winded long. 

And doubted oft ; and if my song 

Be something like, and tax the strength 

Of thy sweet patience, for its length — 

Oh, pardon it, for I propose 

To urge my Pegasus with blows. 

In hopes that he will feel the need 

Of some accession to his speed. 

They persevered until they found 

A little plot of level ground, 

Where stood the hut, well known to fame, 

In that locale, of fortune's dame. 

They knocked full long and loud before 

They heard a fumbling at the door, 

Which slowly opened, when inside 

A shrivelled hag they dimly spied; 

Who bade them enter, in a tone 

As gruff and harsh as manhood's own. 

Some dying embers cast a glow 

That poorly served their way to show ; 

But finding each an oaken chair. 

They took a seat with trembling care, 

And summoned all their hardihood 

To hear their fortunes, bad or good. 

Meanwhile the old, decrepit witch 

Drew forth a lamp from hidden niche, 



VILLAGE CHRONICLES II5 

And lighting it, still more the gloom 
It served to pierce, and things illume. 
And now the visitors explore, 
With eager eyes, things hid before ; 
They looked upon the withered crone, 
As in the light her features shone ; 
Her ferret eyes, her long gray hair, 
The wrinkles wrought by years of care. 
(For rudely Time had left his trace, 
And crossed and interlined her face !) 
They closely scanned, and half in fright, 
The maiden whispered, " What a sight ! " 
Ah me ! so bent and bowed with age. 
She looked as though the opening page 
Of her young life, that should be fair. 
Was likewise seamed and crossed with care. 
What she was once, who now might say ? 
Each trace of beauty swept away, 
That adoration might inspire. 
Or kindle true affection's fire. 
Ne was to tell her name or race, 
Her former home or dwelling-place. 
Concerning her 'twas simply known, 
That here she'd dwelt for years alone. 
Her furniture was all in sight ; 
One stand, abed, three chairs, a light — 
A cupboard that its hoard displayed 
Of dishes, all in order laid. 
Most visitors, with anxious eyes. 
Observing this, would feel surprise, 



Il6 VILLAGE CHRONICLES 

To think that one should live so ill, 
Who might procure all things at will. 
The present two were quickly tired 
With looking on, and both desired 
That they might have their fortunes told, 
And page of destiny unrolled. 
Not long the witch kept them in doubt, 
But took a seat and thus spoke out : 
" You maiden fair, come here to me ; 
A fresh young face is thine, I see." 
And thus addressed the maiden rose. 
But purposely the student's toes 
Were made to feel her footsteps sly, 
As his poor corns might testify — 
Before, with smiling, much allied 
To fear, she reached the witch's side. 
"Thy palm," she said, ''betrays few lines. 
And faintly each to each inclines. 
As yet thy cares have been but few, 
And flowers around thy pathway grew ; 
But, ere my cards thy fate foretell, 
I'll read this student's palm as well." 
Then, 'neath the glimmer of the light 
She brought a pack of cards to sight. 
From some deep fold within her dress, 
Where they had lain in dark duress. 
And, placing them upon the stand, 
She asked to see the student's hand. 
Full long she gazed, before she said : 
** A changeful life, sir, you have led ; 



VILLAGE CHRONICLES 11/ 

You've breasted fortune's waves aside, 
And kept your head above the tide ; 
And never ceased to urge your course 
As you thought best, with all your force. 
If divination tells me right, 
Your future destiny is bright, 
And you will prosper, never fear. 
And win the maid to you most dear ; 
But watch the cards, as I arrange. 
And see the shifting fortunes change." 
She then arose, approaching nigh 
The cupboard, where she kept supply 

Of something ardent, by the smell ; 
The student kenned its savor well, 

And whispered to the lass near by : 

" 'Tis simon-pure, third-proof ' red eye.' " 

" 'Tis what } " she said ; poor simple maid. 

She'd never heard, as I'm afraid, 

Of such before ; and thus in doubt. 

Desired to find his meaning out. 

But ere the student made reply. 

There rose a hideous rout and cry. 

That pierced their ears without cessation, 

As though the fiends for recreation, 

In Charon's boat had crossed the " Styx," 

And now were up to hellish tricks. 

Soon on their vision, through the smoke, 

Two struggling forms an instant broke ; 

The student's dog it proved to be, 

Joined with the cat in fierce melee. 



Il8 VILLAGE CHRONICLES 

The ashes flew ; above the din 

The fortune-teller's yells chimed in ; 

And, rushing like a fury mad, 

She seized the tongs, and thus yclad, 

She dealt some blows both quick and strong, 

But not at ease she dealt them long ; 

For, not inured to such abuse, 

The dog, enraged, broke quickly loose, 

And seized upon her scraggy throat ; 

Although full weighty blows she smote, 

He still clung fast. To lend her aid 

The student sprang ; one step he made, 

But turned his ankle, tripped, and fell. 

And overthrew the stand as well. 

The light went out, except a spark 

That flickered faintly in the dark. 

In hopes to save his head from harm, 

The student caught the witch's arm. 

And by his pulling soon destroys 

The firmness of her equipoise ; 

She tumbled backward, tho' I own, 

I think she was unfairly thrown, 

And struck the student with her hips, 

Or hoops, somewhere about midships. 

The little wind was thus bereft 

The fall had in his body left ; 

And like a log or lump of clay. 

Beneath the hag he senseless lay. 

Her fall had freed the setter's fangs. 

Who, dreading now no further bangs, 



VILLAGE CHRONICLES 119 

Turned to the cat, that, "spitting " still, 
Of fighting yet had not her fill 
One lucky grab he quickly made ; 
To fight no more poor puss essayed, 
But uttering one infernal "miew," 
Far up the wide-mouthed chimney flew. 
The maiden's terror, fright, and fears. 
First found a vent in shrieks and tears ; 
But then her courage rose anew, 
And she resolved what she must do. 
She lit the lamp with trembling hand. 
And stooped to raise the shattered stand ; 
But at the sound the witch arose. 
With mangled neck and bleeding nose ; 
The student caught his vanished wind. 
And swore all doubts he would rescind 
Before his fellows in debate, 
That he had held a witch-craft's weight. 
He paid the fortune-teller's fee, 
And with the maid then turned to flee. 
Pursued with imprecations dire. 
And oaths as hot as Hecla's fire. 
For thus the hag's excited mind 
To mar their fortunes seemed inclined. 
The setter bounded on before. 
And seemed the fact rejoicing o'er. 
By gambols strange and frequent yells, 
That he was freed from witch's spells. 
The maid and student found their way 
Unto her home with laughter gay ; 



120 VILLAGE CHRONICLES 

And when he parted with her there, 
They both agreed they would not care 
Again to have their fortunes told 
By witches, either young or old ; 
Be fortune's pathway smooth or rough, 
That one adventure was enough. 



THE FIRST OF MAY 121 



THE FIRST OF MAY. 

Oh ! merrily twine your garlands bright, 

And sing your carollings gay — 
For your hearts are young, and you feel delight. 

On this blithesome first of May. 
Ay, the buds were fair many years long syne. 

On this self-same first of May — 
And the song of the birds to my ear as fine, 

And my spirits as blithe and gay. 
And a party of lads and maidens fair 

Strolled forth in their best array, 
To gather the flowers in their secret lair. 

Where they hid from the light of day : 
'Neath a coverlid green of moss and leaves 

They had hidden themselves away. 
But we plucked them thence by their tiny sleeves, 

To the grief of many a fay. 



122 JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT 



JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT 

I'll bet my hat you never heard 

A story that is true 
About a dog and countryman — 

So I will tell it you 
Just as I heard it — that's to say, 

As near as it will do, 
For I must soften rugged tones — 

Harsh colors must subdue. 

Without premising further then, 

With no pretence at art, 
I'll make you fully cognizant 

Of matters at the start. 
And you may trust implicitly 

The truth that I impart ; 
Job Thrasher was the countryman ; 

The dog belonged to Hart, 

A chapman in the neighborhood, 

Who dealt in teas and spice, 
A sailor he was formerly, 

And often he would ** splice 
The main-brace," as he called it: 

Addicted too to dice. 
His wife could never stop him, 

He wouldn't heed advice. 



JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT 123 

But that is immaterial ; 

And I shall not avail 
Myself of foreign incidents 

To lengthen out my tale ; 
For I am fully satisfied, 

If brevity prevail, 
A man will please his audience, 

And otherwise^ he'll fail. 

And so I will not linger 

O'er scenes of married strife, 
Nor breathe a word of rumor 

That everywhere was rife. 
Of rum domestic quarrels 

That Hart had with his wife ; 
The story, as Job told me, 

I'll tell you on my life. 

" I went," said he, " one day last spring, 

To take a little stroll, 
And catch a fish or two, perhaps, 

For I had got my pole ; 
But somehow on the way I paused, 

And sat down on a knoll ; 
I think I felt poetical, 

'Twas curious, 'pon my soul. 

Half consciously I looked about. 

When sudden, as I gazed, 
A dog appeared, and said : 

* Bow wow ' — in truth I was amazed, 



124 JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT 

For he was an enormous dog, 

A dog with bristles raised, 
And ghttering fangs and foaming mouth, 

His eye-balls redly blazed. 

He stopped before me, crouching down, 

And looking fierce and long, 
Seemed meditating where to bite ; 

My agony was strong. 
The cold sweat rolled in drops like rain, 

I thought no more of song. 
And only wished I was at home. 

With folks where I belong. 

Or had some weapon of defence. 

Such was my earnest thought. 
When, groping in my overcoat 

Convulsively, I caught 
A pocket-pistol, unbeknown. 

That lay there since 'twas bought : 
Well filled with eati-de-'ine it was ; 

I took therefrom a draught : 

Which acted most amazingly. 

My courage then revived ; 
And from my back that old gray coat. 

As quick as thought I rived ; 
And, while I kept my eyes on his, 

I hastily contrived 
To wrap it well about one arm. 

And at the bulldog dived. 



JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT 125 

The bulldog dived at me likewise, 

He sprang right at my throat, 
But met a blow betwixt his eyes, 

Full wrathfully 'twas smote. 
And when he made a grab at me. 

His teeth sank in my coat, 
As, round my arm, held high 'twas raised. 

Of it I took no note : 

But with my boot his bony ribs 

Impetuous did crack, — 
Like ribs of some stout ship that groans. 

With shrouds and cordage slack. 
When sudden gale unlooked-for blows — 

And so I beat him back ; 
But he again as quick as thought. 

Returned to the attack : 

And caught me by the crazy-bone, 

Where shin doth join the shank: 
I'm fond of close attachments. 

But this I couldn't thank. 
The more I struggled for release. 

His fangs the deeper sank ; 
And all the while that dog would growl. 

And twist, and turn, and yank. 

I sought again the bottle — 

Dutch courage soon supplies 
New strength to weary muscles — 

My pluck began to rise. 



126 JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT 

The dog to quit my crazy-bone 

Persistently denies. 
I may have lacked in science then, 

But gouged him in the eyes. 

As o'er and o'er upon the ground 

We tumbled, till at last 
Adown a sloping bank we fell. 

Each holding tight and fast, 
And rolled into a stagnant pond, 

That opened wide and vast. 
And swallowed us beneath the slime 

With which 'twas overcast. 

To rise again, again to wage 

Our fierce, uncertain fray. 
Till tranquillized by coolness soon 

The dog made feebler play. 
And loosed his hold upon my shin, 

And turned to swim away ; 
But to his tail I sternly clung. 

Determined he should stay. 

I felt right mad, you see, to think 

The dog should spoil my clothes. 
And then go back upon himself. 

And ' vamose ' when he chose ; 
And so I held on to his tail ; 

But what do you suppose — 
The dog turned sharp around at that. 

And fastened to my nose. 



JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT 127 

Whilst I laid hold of his two ears, 

And plunging 'neath the flood, 
Alternately we rose and fell, 

And settled with a thud. 
Beneath the half -putrescent ooze 

Into the slimy mud. 
As all the wave rubescent grew, 

Commingled with our blood. 

When, on the lofty hill above' — 

What words this thing can tell ! — 
I heard a female voice shriek out, 

A dainty female yell : — 
* Old Towse has got a man down there, 

He's killing him as well ! 
Oh, run ! oh, run ! for help at once, 

The wicked brute to quell ! ' 

'Twas Becky, pride of villagers. 

And beauty's fairest queen. 
Sole child of farmer Hammerstone, 

Whose house near by was seen 
Embowered in trees and shrubbery. 

Right pleasantly, I ween ; 
He owned ten acres round about, 

On others had a lien. 

Half dead with shame to find myself 

Observed in such a plight. 
Especially by female eyes, I grasped 

His muzzle tight, 



128 JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT 

And thrust the bulldog's jaws apart 

With desperation's might, 
And loosed him from his hold at once, 

And "sounded" out of sight. 

Soon raising up my head again, 

I looked beyond the hill, 
Just as the fainting miss revived, 

To shriek renewed and shrill. 
While an attendant crone at hand 

Invoked her to be still, 

* Or she would raise the neighbors a',' 

And Becky said, ' I will. 

* The man is sunk — sunk in the pond — 

I saw where he went down — 
And if the neighbors do not come, 

I'm sure that he will drown.' 
' An' let him drown, if drown he will — 

What care ye for the clown, 
Puir feckless bodie .'* ' said the crone, 

Who saw her mistress frown, 

And judged it best to say no more : 

Meantime, upon the run. 
Behold a farmer's lad approach. 

Who asked them, ' if in fun 
They shrieked and yelled like catamounts, 

Or why the deuce 'twas done .'' ' 
Then quoth the crone, ' A man has drowned, 

That's why the cries begun.' 



JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT 129 

The fellow's face turned pale a bit, 

And then it turned to blue ; 
And then he ran down hill like shot, 

And shouting, as he flew — 
Right on the brink before me stood. 

And said, ' It is too true ! ' 

* Oh, no,' says I, a-rising up, 'it am'^, 

How do you do ? 

' Just send them gals away, young man, 

And then give me your hand ; 
And help me out of this quagmire 

Once more upon the land ; 
For if you don't you have a hide. 

And it shall be well tanned. 
Whenever next I meet with you, 

I'd have you understand! ' 

* I will,' said he, * Jehosaphat, I'll 

Make them gals clear out. 
And extricate you from this fix 

Without the slightest doubt ; 
A suit of clothes you'll also need — 

My father, he is stout. 
And you, I judge, are rayther slim ; 

But then I think this bout 

His duds will answer just as well 

As might a better fit.' 
And then he grinned, as though he'd made 

A mighty stroke at wit. 



130 JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT 

I growled, ' Clear out, you fool, begone ! ' 

He hurried not a bit ; 
But, as he turned to leave me there, 

He laughed as tho' he'd split ; 

And going to the maiden and the 

Old attendant crone. 
Said something to them ; they walked off, 

And I was all alone. 
The dog had long ago made tracks. 

And left for parts unknown ; 
And so I scrambled to the land — 

I wished I could have flown — 

The sooner to have reached my home; 

I'm certain, anyway. 
Few, few indeed, pedestrians, 

Had I been timed that day. 
Though naked, could have outstripped me ; 

Whatever they may say." 
And so I end Job's narrative. 

For your indulgence pray. 



ROBIN GOODFELLOW 131 



ROBIN GOODFELLOW 

From fairy-land, my place of birth, 

Sent hither by the Elfin King, 
I come to roam at night on earth, 
And join in sport and wassailing. 

My name is dear 

To mortal ear ; 
For I am Robin Goodfellow — 

The tricksy Puck, 

That brings good luck, 
And laughs, with merry ho, ho, ho. 

Perversity of heart and mind, 

Believe me, mortals, I shall quell; 
In every case I chance to find, 
I'll make the culprit rue it well. 

While in amaze 

He wildly strays 
To overtake me as I go — 

With ease I will 

Elude him still. 
And laugh, with merry ho, ho, ho. 

The love-sick swain who thinks he hears 

Afar his sweetheart's cry for him. 
Must pardon me, if, urged by fears. 
He plunges in the river's brim : — 
For then he knows 
The cry arose 



132 ROBIN GOODFELLOW 

From Puck or Robin Goodfellow. 

As thus he fares, 

And wildly stares, 
I laugh, with merry ho, ho, ho. 

I watch the gambler leave the hall. 

Where he has won a golden store — 
In equine shape I wait his call 

And neigh and whinny at the door. 

How swift he rides. 

When he bestrides, 
The back of Robin Goodfellow ; 

Who hears his groans. 

And jolts his bones, 
And laughs, with merry ho, ho, ho. 

When feasts are spread, I have my share. 

And kiss the maidens in the crowd; 
Who shriek, of course, but little care. 
Because their shrieks are seldom loud. 

And when the host 

Would give a toast. 
The well-filled glass I overthrow ; 

When he would quaff 

The wine, I laugh, 
To his annoyance, ho, ho, ho. 

And oft in dreams I pinch the maid. 
Who in the kitchen slumbers sound — 

Blow out the lights, to make afraid, 
And roll the pots and kettles round : 



ROBIN GOODFELLOW 133 

When she doth wake 

I quick betake 
Myself away, with laughter low, 

That she can tell 

'Twas Puck right well 
Who laughs, with merry ho, ho, ho. 

At times, when haughty ^olus 

Sends howling storms upon the deep, 
To overwhelm the sailor thus 

With sullen surges in his sleep — 

I guide the blast 

Till danger's past — 
Unto the helmsman aid bestow. 

Who wipes his eyes : 

"Hilloa," he cries; 
I vanish then, with ho, ho, ho. 

At times the traveller, tired and worn, 

Upon a dismal path unknown, 
Despairing of his destined bourne. 

Finds courage spent and hope nigh flown; 

But will pursue 

His course anew. 
And feel again his ardor glow, 

When just ahead 

He hears my tread. 
And merry laugh of ho, ho, ho. 

At times the merchant, wrapped in thought, 
His way is wending slowly home — 



134 ROBIN GOODFELLOW 

Forgetful of the playthings bought, 
Forgetful too that fairies roam ; 

While I behind 

Steal like the wind — 
Though how 'twas done he ne'er will know 

And take the toys 

For poorer boys, 
And laugh, with merry ho, ho, ho. 

On Christmas nights, when bells ring out 

Their tones of joy, or else of woe; 
When stars are shining, and the shout 
Of revellers that swiftly go, 

In headlong flight 

O'er fields of white, 
And pure and sparkling ice and snow, 

Rings loud and clear — 

You'll often hear 
My merry laugh of ho, ho, ho. 

On times like these I often seize 

To make the bashful lover glow ; 
Impel his true love's hand to squeeze. 
And sheep's-eye glances to bestow; 

And then it is, 

Right soon I wis, 
His ear will tingle with the blow. 

That long will smart. 

When I depart. 
And laugh, with merry ho, ho, ho. 



ROBIN GOODFELLOW 135 

Lo, in the east the stars are bright — 

My time is up — I may not stay ; 
I bid you then, fair earth, good-night, 
And go with speed of light, away — 

And haste again 

Where elfins reign, 
And pure, undying strains do flow 

From harps of gold 

That fairies hold. 
Who wait for Robin Goodf ellow ! 



136 WINE 



WINE. 



Oft when the day is done 
And the slow descending sun 
Sinks in the western sky, 
I to the landlord hie ; 
And there I have a glass, 
From his sweet serving-lass. 
Of rich and rare old wine, 
The nectar of the vine. 

Within its beaded rim - 
What dimpling graces swim ! 
What recollections fair 
Of lips like rubies rare ; 
What smiles that linger still, 
And all my pulses thrill, 
In rich and rare old wine. 
The nectar of the vine. 

What fairy forms appear, 
What starry eyes draw near ! 
What swiftly flying feet, 
To sound of music sweet ! 
What rippling laughter falls. 
What fond endearment calls. 
In rich and rare old wine, 
The nectar of the vine. 



WINE 137 



Ah, me ! It all is o'er. 
All fades ! And now no more 
Alluring fancies bright 
Will bring my heart delight ; 
No more will visions pass 
Across the empty glass 
Of rich and rare old wine, 
The nectar of the vine. 



138 DRINKING-SONG 



DRINKING-SONG 



While the winds they are howling without us, 

And the firelight gleams warm on the floor, 
What is better than a few friends about us 

To help us drive care from the door ! 
Through the long winter's night by the embers, 

As we dream of the days past and gone, 
Ere our youth had a thought of Decembers, 

Or the rose of our life bore a thorn. 

Chorus 

Oh ! there's nothing will make us so merry, 
Or will drown all our cares in a bunch, 

As a pull at a good Tom and Jerry, 
Or a rousing old noggin of punch ! 

II 

In the east when the dawn is appearing, 

And the stars glimmer faint in the sky, 
And we know that the daylight is nearing, 

And the breath of the morning is nigh, — 
Here's a toast, as you fill up the glasses, 

Strikes a chord every heart must obey, 
'Tis the health of all sweethearts and lasses 

O'er the wide earth, wherever they stray. 



A MADRIGAL 139 



A MADRIGAL 

Let the boat gently glide on the lake's silver tide, 

While the heaven's lovely queen, 

The moon, is faintly seen. 
As it glances in its pride on the lofty mountain side, 

With a pure and mellow sheen. 

The leafy boughs between. 



Let the winds whisper low, as they wander to and fro. 

And gently pass us by 

With a murmur and a sigh ; 
While our spirits have a glow that would melt the 
wintry snow. 

That on the peaks doth lie. 

Where they seem to touch the sky. 



Let no other sound be heard save the softly spoken 
word, 
As thy accents pure and clear 
Come stealing on my ear. 
Like the notes of sweetest bird, when her heart by love 
is stirred. 
Who sings withouten fear, 
When her tender mate is near. 



I40 A MADRIGAL 

Let the lip be pressed to lip while in ecstasy we sip 

That evanescent dew 

That thrills our beings through. 
Ah, the cups in wine that dip no drops like it can drip, 

Since no vine that ever grew 

From the earth such sweetness drew. 



RANGELEY TROUT 141 



RANGELEY TROUT 

TYRO LOQUITUR 

What fish are these ? Brook trout ! My eyes 
And where grew they to such a size ? 
No fish e'er caught in private pound 
Of such Titanic size are found. 

PISCATOR RESPONDENS 

Indeed, you're right ; these fish did grow 
Where noble Rangeley's waters flow. 
With my right arm and tackle stout 
From 'neath its waves I pulled them out. 

TYRO 

Oh ! brave indeed ! And would that I 
Might go with thee such sport to try — 
To hear the reel and feel the line 
Must stir the blood like draughts of wine. 

PISCATOR 

Then say the word and you shall go ; 
You're just the boy to .fish, I know. 
We'll sing and laugh with hearts in tune, 
And be as blithe as birds in June. 

TYRO 

And roam about where rustling boughs 
Might seem to whisper lovers' vows, 



142 RANGELEY TROUT 

Did wood-nymphs still intrust their charms 
Within the forest's circling arms. 

PISCATOR 

Oh ! what delight, 'neath cloudy skies, 
To cast our lines and play our flies ! 
Who ever felt the moments drag 
When he was bringing trout to bag ? 

TYRO 

And who can doubt the height of joy 
When one has hooked a fish that's coy, 
'Mid mossy stones and gnarled roots 
To plash around in rubber boots ! 

PISCATOR 

Where wisdom holds her highest court * 
She yields at times to harmless sport ; 
And who that paths of learning trod 
Has ever shunned the fishing-rod ? 

TYRO 

No one, indeed ! And I am bound, 
When next the seasons make their round, 
Of fishing I will have my fill — 
Till then, my heart, till then, sit still. 

iThe friend to whom these lines were originally addressed is an eminent 
member of the legal fraternity. 



TAUNTON RIVER 143 



TAUNTON RIVER 

Oh, fairest of the rivers, 
Thou swiftly rolHng tide, 

I watch thy flowing surface, 
RecHning by thy side. 

I watch the fading sunbeams 

Which glimmer over all. 
Which cast a golden radiance. 

And glisten as they fall 
Upon the lofty pine-trees 

That stand above thy banks, 
With dense and gloomy foliage. 

In many giant ranks. 

And as the evening cometh, 

The night air, faint and still. 
Wafts slowly o'er thy waters 

The voice of '' whip-poor-will." 
Again, methinks, I hear it, 

A mournful, soothing lay. 
In mellow cadence floating. 

That dieth soon away. 

And now the moon ariseth ; 

With gentle, silver glow 
It glances on thy pine-trees, 

Then on thyself below. 



144 TAUNTON RIVER 

And 'neath thy burnished surface, 
Together with the sky, 

Like rubies in their setting, 
The stars reflected lie. 

Oh, river of my childhood, 
Oh, river bright and free. 

Accept the simple strophes 
My muse has brought to thee. 



MORN 145 



MORN 



The rising sun's first beams 

Grow brighter, higher, 
And trees, and hills, and streams 

Glow with a golden fire. 

The trees now nod their heads, 
Wave their branches green ; 

The streams o'er sandy beds. 
Slow rippling on, are seen. 

Now mist rolls up the hills, 
Shrouds in purple gloom 

The forests and the rills. 
And flowers in their bloom. 

The tinkling of the bells, 
Sounding here and there. 

Harmonically swells 
Upon the morning air. 

Along the green hilltops, 

And the level plain. 
Light zephyrs wave the crops 

Of ripe and yellow grain. 

The lowing of the kine 
Soundeth from a stream. 

Which phant willows line 
And form a drooping screen. 



146 MORN 

The farmer's lusty shout 
Echoes, echoes still, 

And slowly dieth out 
Thro' intervale and hill. 

With beauty all things beam ; 

Lovely is the sight, 
And save in poet's dream, 

No morn was e'er more bright. 



TROUT-FISHING 147 



TROUT-FISHING 

Where yonder sinuous stream its slow length winds 

Along beneath the drooping alder bush 

And feathery fern, whose arrogance doth push 

It aye to seek the extremest verge that binds 

The ill-restrained deep from overflow — 

There gently drop thy treacherous lure within 

The circling eddy — round and round 'twill spin. 

Anon, as swift as arrow from the bow, 

With strength to test the deftest line and rod, 

Some luckless rover comes, that sans a doubt 

Will gorge the bait, and then his time is brief. 

The strain's severe ; but soon upon the sod 

You land him safe, and trembling like a leaf, 

You watch the well-won prize — a monster trout. 



148 BASS-FISHING 



BASS-FISHING 

Where loud resounds the surge along the shore 
Of Assawampsett's lake, and wildly swell 
Its billows — there full often in his shell 
Piscator sits, regardless of the roar, 
And moves his pliant rod with watchful eye 
To mark the strain that draws his float adown ; 
And when it comes, each hair upon his crown 
Will stand on end ; for well he knows some sly 
And hungry bass has found the minnow out, 
And means to bolt it whole, without a qualm : 
But, striking just in time, Piscator sets 
The barbed hook within his maw. Though stout 
He may resist, the reel his courage frets, 
Until he yields to his proud captor's arm. 



QUAIL-SHOOTING 149 



QUAIL-SHOOTING 

When autumn comes, and on the frosty air 

The quail's low pipe is borne unto the ear 

Of him who waits impatiently to hear, 

That he may to the stubble-fields repair — 

What pleasure then, close quartering all the ground, 

To watch the well-trained dog — now here, now there 

He moves in nervous haste, and yet with care. 

Until his point betrays the bevy found. 

The sportsman then proceeds without delay- 

To flush the wily birds; and when they spring 

Tumultuously aloft, and plain to view, 

Ne'er lets them go unchallenged on their way; 

But takes a rapid aim, as well as true. 

And to his bag some luckless brace doth bring. 



1 50 RABBIT-SHOOTING 



RABBIT-SHOOTING 

When from the ancient peg, whereon it hangs, 

The old fusee some truant boy takes down, 

And slopes at once to 'scape parental frown, 

And seeks the nearest wood — though loudly bangs 

The door he left ajar — a startling sound 

To those who dream within — he nothing heeds; 

But whistling gayly on his way proceeds. 

While slowly after limps the aged hound. 

But when he strikes a scent that leads him on 

To heaps of brush, and pokes therein his nose. 

And out the rabbit scuds, the sight renews 

The strength of youth — decrepitude is gone — 

He loudly roars, and swiftly then pursues. 

Until the gun the quarry's flight doth close. 



THE ROBIN 151 



THE ROBIN 

Thou tuneful warbler of the spring, I hear 
Thy sweet notes trill upon the morning air, 
Till farthest dale and glen and meadows fair 
Catch up the lingering strains more sweet and clear 
Than first they left thy tiny, panting breast ; — 
With lengthened cadence, trembling o'er and o'er, 
Thy untaught symphonies entrance me more 
Than loftier flights, howe'er so well expressed. 
Of studied art. How sweetly dost thou sing ! — 
Come, once again, chime in thy very best. 
While I, with eager ear, attend thy call! 
Thine are the songs that welcome in the spring ; 
May such, as carolled now my soul enthrall. 
Be sung above my grave, where'er I rest. 



152 DREAMS 



DREAMS 

I SWING in my hammock, beneath the grand elms, 

And I dream both of fortune and fame; 
And I say, the faint-hearted the wave overwhelms, 

While the brave win success and a name. 
And I think, when a victor, I return from the fight, 

I will sail to some tropical sea. 
Where the palm-sheltered isles make a home of delight, 

And its mistress my true love shall be. 
I swing in my hammock, while over my head 

Float the clouds of a midsummer's day; 
And I dream, as I swing, of the joys that have fled, 

Through the mists of the years passed away. 
And I sigh, as I think of the pleasures of youth 

That have vanished in sorrow and tears; 
While the treasure I looked for, love, honor, and truth, 

But the illusion of fancy appears. 
I swing in my hammock, while, shrivelled and brown. 

All the leaves overhead seem to sigh. 
As they fall from the bough, floating tremblingly down. 

Till at rest on the meadow they lie. 
And I say, I shall fall, as the leaves fell before; 

I shall fade like the light of the sun; 
I shall fold my tired arms when my labors are o'er, 

And the last of my dreaming is done. 



THE BROAD AND ROLLING PRAIRIES 153 



THE BROAD AND ROLLING PRAIRIES 

O'er the broad and rolling prairies, 

Just as free as desert air, 
With the lightsome grace of fairies, 

Roamed an Indian maiden fair, 

Roamed an Indian maiden fair. 
And her eyes, so darkly flashing, 

Smote the chieftain's heart in twain. 
On his fleetest pony dashing 

As he swept across the plain. 
" My love, my life, my own! " 
'Twas thus he made his moan, 
Where the broad and rolling prairies 

Were their witnesses alone. 

O'er the broad and rolling prairies. 
Came a man of stranger race, 

And he saw this Queen of Fairies, 
And of her he made his chase. 
And of her he made his chase. 

But she said to him : '' Ah, never 
Will a stranger win my charms." 

And she fled from him forever, 

And she sought her warrior's arms. 
'' My love, my life, my own!" 
Were mutual murmurs thrown 

Where the broad and rolling prairies 
Were their witnesses alone. 



154 THE BROAD AND ROLLING PRAIRIES 

O'er the broad and rolling prairies 
Came the paleface in pursuit 

Of this charming Queen of Fairies, 
And her lover he would shoot, 
And her lover he would shoot. 

Then he crouched behind some willows, 
While he watched with jealous eyes; 

On a limb his rifle pillows — 
As he shoots the lover dies. 
" My love, my life, my own!" 
It was his dying groan. 

Where the broad and rolling prairies 
Were the witnesses alone. 

O'er the broad and rolling prairies 
Bright the sun had tinged the west, 

While the weeping Queen of Fairies 
Held her lover to her breast. 
Held her lover to her breast. 

She had staunched the life-blood flowing 
From the wound the paleface gave. 

And for cooling waters going. 
Oft his brow and lips would lave. 
*' My love, my life, my own ! " 
'Twas thus she made her moan. 

Where the broad and rolling prairies 
Were their witnesses alone. 

O'er the broad and rolling prairies. 
While the evening shadows fell, 



THE BROAD AND ROLLING PRAIRIES 155 

From the grieving Queen of Fairies 
Long the sounds of sorrow swell, 
Long the sounds of sorrow swell. 

But at last from swoon reviving, 
See the warrior's pulses beat ! 

And, the paleface wound surviving, 
He his Queen again shall greet: 
" My love, my life, my own ! 
Through joy and sorrow known," 

Where the broad and rolling prairies 
Were their witnesses alone. 

O'er the broad and rolling prairies. 

As the twinkling stars came out. 
Low he whispers : " Queen of Fairies, 

Bid farewell to fear and doubt. 

Bid farewell to fear and doubt. 
On thy lips the kisses burning 

Say to grief, be ever dumb ; 
Think of joys again returning. 

And of happy days to come. 
My love, my life, my own ! 
Through suffering dearer grown." 
Where the broad and rolling prairies 

Were their witnesses alone. 



156 THE RESCUED FAWN 



THE RESCUED FAWN 

The Southern Cross is in the sky ; 
And o'er the wave shoot trembUngly 
Ten thousand rays of sparkHng hght, 
From all the starry gems of night. 
The moon is up — and round her zone 
A fleecy robe of clouds has thrown, 
Like some fair maid whose first surprise, 
Would tempt her hide from lover's eyes ! 
Far on the beach and sandy shore 
I hear the distant billows roar — 
'Tis mournful as the last farewell 
That lovers at their parting tell. 
The high woods crown the lofty hill ; 
And round their summits hovering still, 
A huge white bird of prey doth go. 
In wavering circles to and fro. 
He darts across the distant plain — 
He soars, he swoops, he's off again ! 
A little fawn whose dewy eye 
Beheld in fear his shadow nigh, 
Did flee for refuge to a thorn. 
And lay there trembling and forlorn. 
The sharpest point may pierce her side — 
She's safe, nor cares what pains betide. 
And while I gaze — behold, a girl 
As pure and stainless as the pearl ; 



THE RESCUED FAWN 157 

With eyes so dove-like, it would seem 

On Heaven, her home, they surely dream ; 

While curling hair like strands of gold, 

And unconfined by fillet, rolled 

Like rippling sunshine down her neck, 

All free of trammel and of check ; 

Of figure slight, and forehead fair, 

With faint pink cheeks, and features rare — 

And all the grace of form and mien, 

To well become the grandest queen. 

Enough, enough ! Such charms as these 

Deserve some proud Praxiteles 

To make each flowing outline clear 

In marbled whiteness reappear — 

Some magic master of his art, 

A just resemblance to impart. 

That her surpassing beauty might 

On canvas live, forever bright ! 

She paused and said : '' That little fawn 

You see all trembling and forlorn 

Belongs to me. This very day, 

While I was holding her at play. 

The little silver chain she wore 

Escaped my grasp. I saw no more 

Of her till now, though I have been 

All day in search o'er every green. 

And wandering every pathway through 

Where I could think her straying to. 

Pray can you catch her, sir, for me ? 

And I will, oh, so grateful be ! " 



158 THE RESCUED FAWN 

And I replied : " Fair maid, the task 

Is welcome as the heart could ask 

To lend assistance, when in need 

Sweet tones like yours so gently plead." 

I ventured forward, caught the chain ; 

The little fawn was hers again. 

I wandered homeward by her side, 

And when the fawn was safely tied, 

We strolled through many a bower of ease, 

'Mid fragrant lime and orange trees. 

She plucked a flower, and in my breast 

She placed it, there to be at rest, 

Memento sweet of that sweet night. 

I kissed her hand in her despite. 

And as I parted with her there, 

I could but breathe this silent prayer : 

'' May all thy life be guided so. 

That flowers may round thy pathway grow ; 

May never evil bird of prey 

Clutch thee or thine, or friends betray ! 

Be every danger far from thee ; 

May peace and fair prosperity, 

With every comfort thee attend, 

Both now and aye, unto the end ! " 



AMY ROBSART 159 

AMY ROBSART 

Lines on visiting Kenilworth Castle, December 31, 1894 

Ye gray-clad towers, dismantled keep — 
Round which the clustering ivies creep — 
Methinks I hear a voice of woe ; 
That tells a tale of long ago. 



List, Amy, list to my despair ! 
No queen with thee my love shall share ; 
For thee alone this broad domain 
I claim and hold, yet sigh in vain — 
What length of years, what sacred vow — 
Can gain the boon I wish for now ? 
Must I lose all, and yet gain naught ? 
Where is that love for which I sought ? 
Must I that lip, whose treasured dew 
Will yield no sweet, no more pursue ? 
So fair thine eye as angel's own — 
For love of thee I lose a throne ! 

II 

Stay, Leicester, stay ! am I not thine ? — 
My love, my life, with thee entwine — 
Nor perils great, disgrace, or shame — 
My home forgot, my own fair fame — 
Can swerve the heart that grants thee all ; 
And lives to love, whate'er befall. 



l6o AMY ROBSART 

My friends, my joys, my peace of mind, 

For thee, to thee, are all resigned. 

A maiden's heart, when once she gives. 

In him who holds thereafter lives ! 

Not thine the cost, the pain not thine — 

Have I thy heart ? Thou sure hast mine ! 



AT SEA l6l 



AT SEA 

The crested waves are combing ! 

In froth and foam they fall ; 
Anon go tossing skyward, 

Like some Titanic wall. 
All capped with hoary whiteness 

They rear their mighty heads ! 
While o'er the darkened heavens 

A misty shadow spreads. 
The sun is near its setting, 

The wind doth follow free ; 
That power, no soul forgetting, 

Will guide the ship and me. 



1 62 THE BLOODY TOWER 



THE BLOODY TOWER 

I 

The tread of strangers echoes here — 

The lowly trample crowns ; 
Nor reck of murdered princes near, 

Or cruel Gloucester's frowns ! 

Can aught of earth weigh in the scale 

When innocence is slain — 
Will justice, mercy, ever fail 

To right such wrong again ? 

Ah, no ! The head will feel the thorns - 
Weak flesh will quake with fear — 

The dreaded nights will bring no morns 
Such crimes as this to clear ! 

Ah ! Richard, guilty, guilty, thou ! 

No time can e'er efface 
The stain on thy dishonored brow 

That hireling fingers trace. 

II 
Here in this chamber, here they lay, 

Asleep with clasped hands ; 
In dreams again they were at play. 

Released from prison bands. 



THE BLOODY TOWER 163 

But how released ! Let silence tell ! 

Their death-cold faces say ! 
The eyes whence tears no more can well, 

Nor more can see the day ! 

With skulking steps, as they were bid, 

The traces of their crime 
The graceless ruffians silent hid — 

Accursed through all time. 

Their master paid the price agreed ; 

Each one received his share, 
That ill repaid the foulest deed 

The blackest annals bear. 

Ill 
Oh, slaves of that unrighteous one — 

Oh, followers of greed ! 
The royal line ye have fordone 

A tyrant must succeed ! 

And now on earth, a guilty man. 

Must Richard evermore 
The face of friends in terror scan. 

And oft his crime deplore ! 

*' Oh, lust of power ! Oh, greed of gain ! 

Of what is conquest worth, 
When one his own true kin has slain* 

To win their share of earth ? 



164 THE BLOODY TOWER 

Beloved they were ; my traitrous heart 
Resolved to have the throne ; 

The hireling ruffians did their part — 
The guerdon is my own. 

Nor night nor day will joy anew, 

Or hope my bosom fill ; 
Dread shapes and visions in review 

My heart with horror thrill. 

A crime like mine each tie has burst 
That love or honor taught ; 

And evermore my life is cursed, 
My path with peril fraught." 



THOUGHTS, FROM HORACE 165 

THOUGHTS, FROM HORACE 

LIBER II, CARMEN X 

My dearest friend Licinius, if you desire to know 
How to navigate securely when the winds of fortune 

blow, 
You must not be over-venturous, as on the deep you go. 
Nor press the shore too closely, for dangers lurk below. 

'Tis he who seeks "the golden mean" most likely will 

obtain 
The proximate of happiness, and freed from earthly 

bane 
Of cares that come with riches, a dark unseemly train ; 
The cause of deep anxieties, perplexing to the brain. 

It is the tree of lofty growth far towering to the sky 

That oftenest feels the shock of storms and whirlwinds 
sweeping by ; 

'Tis oftenest round the mountain-peaks the lurid light- 
nings fly. 

And thunder-bolts will smite the tower that art has 
builded high. 

The only true philosopher, the man innately wise. 
Is he who trusts in Providence, and on himself relies ; 
Prepared in his prosperity for evils as they rise ; 
Who never unto penury a helping hand denies. 



l66 THOUGHTS, FROM HORACE 

What though the storm is raging, and obscure the light 

of day ; 
Still the sun is ever shining, and hereafter will display 
His bright and beaming visage with invigorated ray. 
When Jehovah wills cessation and the elements obey. 

E'en Apollo courts the muses, joining oft the lyric 

choir, 
Waking echoes of deep harmony, bending o'er the 

tuneful lyre; 
Aye unmindful of his arrows, as frenzied with the fire 
Of poesy, he touches each gently quivering wire. 

Neither shake your canvas out too freely from the brail, 
Nor keep it double-reefed, ever fearful of a gale ! 
But exert a sound discretion that will oftentimes avail, 
And with the help of chart and compass you will pros- 
perously sail. 



FLOWERS 167 



FLOWERS 

There are flowers, fairest flowers, 

Blooming on the verdant mead. 
That are crushed beneath our footsteps, 

And we scarcely give them heed ; 
But they spring beneath the sunshine, 

In all their colors dressed ; 
And in their glowing petals 

Again the dewdrops rest. 
The tread that crushed them downwards 

Gave but a moment's pain — 
Their life again is joyous — 

They rise and bloom again. 
But the flowers of pure affection. 

Once crushed beneath our tread, 
Can never be restored to us — 

They evermore are dead. 



l68 THE TWENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY 

Poem delivered on the Twenty-fifth Anniversary of the Insti- 
tution OF Charles H. Titus Lodge, Taunton, Mass., March 28, 1898 

Five thousand years, and more, have sped 

Adown the slope of Time, 
Since first Masonic Light was shed 

On that far Eastern clime, 
Where Solomon in glory reigned 

At height of earthly power — 
Nor yet our cherished truths disdained 

As his most precious dower; 
And when the Temple reared its head 

To meet the bended sky, 
Commingled strength and beauty spread 

Their treasures to the eye ; 
For Hiram wrought such rare design 

To ornament the fane, 
It seemed as if some mazy line 

Might lead to Heaven again. 
Although he did not live to see 

The finished fabric stand, 
His Spirit in our work may be 

Forever near at hand. 
Primeval Lodge, it was thy son 

His life undaunted gave — 
The crown of Victory truly won, 

And triumphed o'er the grave ; 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY 1 69 

And if, to speak befitting praise 

Within my power could be, 
Oh, noble Brother, none would raise 

A prouder strain to thee. 
Five thousand years may pass and fade; — 

Five thousand years ensue, 
And yet thy virtues be displayed — 

Thy story ever new. 
Against the centuries that have passed, 

Our life indeed is young, 
But, as the sun melts snow at last, 

Whence rapid streams have sprung. 
That broadened, rolled with mighty breast, 

Down to the sounding main — 
So may our course ne'er be repressed, 

Our progress naught restrain. 
And while this Lodge remains our Home, 

The ties which hold us here 
Will make us one, where'er we roam, 

Each to the other dear. 
Not wealth ensures us good content. 

Good deeds alone repay ; 
And he who boasts a life well spent, 

His wealth endures for aye ; 
For then corruption tempts him not — 

O'er conscience none prevail — 
His honest worth is ne'er forgot. 

And none will dare assail. 
Then let us live as Masons true 
In all our journey here. 



I/O THE TWENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY 

And, at its close, the Veil pass through 

Without a shade of fear ; 
For Faith doth teach us Trust in God 

Through every earthly ill ; 
The humble heart doth feel the rod, 

But trusts and praises still. 
And Hope to every human breast 

This fond assurance gives : 
" Let all thy doubts be set at rest, 

The soul immortal lives." 
And Charity her gracious hand 

Extends to all below ; 
And ever, where the wretched stand, 

Her mantle she doth throw. 
This Faith is ours — this Hope as well — 

And Charity beside ; 
Think ye that evil e'er befell, 

Where such as they abide ? 
But ever, as the years roll o'er. 

And youthful pleasures fade. 
Our Life's sad burden presses more — 

The sunlight turns to shade. 
And when our footsteps reach that bourne. 

Whence none return again — 
Though some there be, who come to mourn, 

Whose hearts are wrung with pain ; 
Yet, onward, upward, we must go, 

Where Light supernal shines. 
Where angel voices murmur low, 

In tones the heart divines. 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY i/i 

The loved, the lost, will greet us there, 

Those far more dear than life ; 
The little hands, once held in prayer, 

Long closed to earthly strife. 
Again may clasped in om's remain ; 

Again the tongue may speak, 
The eye look love to ours again, 

The warm kiss press the cheek. 
What treasure, then, has earth to give — 

Who here would long delay ? 
Eternal Life is ours to live. 

For that we cast away ! 
While, as the years glide on apace, 

And springs of life grow less. 
And younger Brothers take our place, 

We welcome them, and bless. 
May God's good care guide every one 

Who enters here for aye ; 
And lead, when earthly Work is done, 

To Heaven's unending day. 



1/2 VIRTUES OF MASONRY 



VIRTUES OF MASONRY 

Poem delivered on the One Hundredth Anniversary of King 
David Lodge, Taunton, June 15, 1898 

Lo, in the east the dawn appears, 

Betokening break of day ; 
The earth looks smiling through its tears, 

The clouds are borne away. 

The little birds with tuneful throats 

On every bending spray, • 
Within the brake prolong their notes 

In many a roundelay. 

Above the trees — across the mount, 

The yellow saffron glow 
Of morn is thrown upon the fount, 

In all its sparkling flow. 

The tears of night, like diamonds bright. 

That hide within the flowers, 
Exhale away beneath the light. 

In odor-scented showers. 

The whispering leaves of forest trees 

In gentle voices say : 
" The morn has come, and darkness flees 

Before the break of day." 



VIRTUES OF MASONRY 173 

As from the east the light awakes, 

That darkness must obey — 
So from the east our order takes 

Its great and glorious way. 

So many years, so many years, 

Tradition sets the time 
When masonry at first appears, 

To teach its truth sublime. 

Four cardinal virtues are our boast ; 

By Temperance we restrain 
The passions that allure the most. 

Ere they the mastery gain. 

And Fortitude, that noble trait. 

By which the mind endures — 
Through deepest pain, and peril great, 

A steadfast soul ensures ; 

While Prudence tells us how to act. 

And regulate our lives ; 
The firm foundation is, in fact, 

On which sound judgment thrives. 

And Justice is that bound of right 

Which gives to each his due — 
Regards all equal in its sight — 

Whose scales are ever true. 

These virtues then, while we profess, 
And cherish as our own. 



1/4 VIRTUES OF MASONRY 

Let not neglect observe them less, 
Nor vice usurp their throne. 

Some instances the lesson teach, 
That I would fain impart ; 

And simple words may give in speech 
The utterance of the heart. 



O'er Russian steppes the way is long, 

The day is cold and drear ; 
The courier plies his cracking thong, 

His voice is loud and clear. 

He cheers his drooping steeds to flight. 

Where silent forests frown ; 
For fear that with the fall of night 

The fierce gray wolves come down. 

The jingling bells all quicker chime, 
The sledge doth glide more free ; 

'Neath hoary trees, where mosses climb. 
Dark objects seem to be. 

And hark, again a startling sound 

Strikes baleful on the ear ; 
A long-drawn howl, that floats around. 

Proclaims the wolves are near. 

He urges on his headlong flight ; 

His anxious gaze doth turn ; 
He sees dim shadows through the night, 

And fiery eyeballs burn. 



VIRTUES OF MASONRY 175 

Oh, courage, courage, noble steeds — 

The way before is clear ; . 
And as the forest now recedes. 

The housetop rises near ; 

So with redoubled efforts strain — 

And cease your wild alarm ; 
Ye soon will be at home again, 

And sheltered from all harm. 



But what are wolves with ravenous eyes, 

Who follow so swift and true. 
To the hungry hate that the good defies, 

And the evil the wretched do ? 

The wolf of hunger will lead to sin — 

And sin will lead to woe ; 
These three gaunt wolves have ever been — 

And the best sometimes o'erthrow. 

What tenets do we, as Masons hold ? 

Who lists to the starved ones' cry ? 
Who parts with his store, nor cherishes gold ? 

Who heeds when the wretched die ? 

Is brotherly love an unmeaning word ? 

Is relief but a painted lie? 
Is truth but a sound by the fainting heard ? 

Must they call without reply ? 

The very first lesson that we are taught 
Is to join with heart and tongue 



1/6 VIRTUES OF MASONRY 

In promoting the welfare, in deed and thought, 
Of 'brothers both old and young. 

To rejoice with them, as they with us, 

To give them a helping hand ; 
And through the world to travel thus, — 

A brotherly, friendly band. 

In many and many a home to-day 

The wolf of hunger is dead ; 
The widow and orphan together pray, 

And their prayers are nightly said 

To the Ruler of all for the kindly hand 
That has aided them in their need, 

As, true to their tenets, the Masons stand 
And the mouths of the hungry feed. 

The wolf of sin in his fastness hides. 
For he shrinks from the light of day ; 

And happiness over the earth presides, 
And rejoicing rules alway. 

The face of woe is wreathed in smiles ; 

The gaunt, pale form grows fair; 
The sunlight of joy all grief beguiles. 

And the sorrowing are freed from care. 



The light burns faint through the window-pane. 

The fingers of want are there ; 
And they work from night till the morn again. 

And the heart sinks 'neath despair. 



VIRTUES OF MASONRY 1 77 

The mother is old, in failing health, 

The daughter is young and fair ; 
They long had basked in the glow of wealth 

And were free from toil and care. 

Misfortune came, and the father died ; 

All earthly goods were sold; 
The homestead went, to his debts applied, 

And their friends grew strange and cold. 

They left the scenes that once they knew — 

To a garret for shelter came — 
They dropped from sight, as poor folks do, 

In their sensitive fear and shame. 

And long they toiled the wolf to stay 
That threatened them at their door ; 

The mother grew weaker from day to day, 
And at last could toil no more. 

And now on a flimsy pallet of straw 

As the dying mother lay, 
Should it be that the daughter forgot the law, 

Taking bread from the baker's tray } 

What Christian then to the weight of sin 

Would an added pressure bear. 
Till a soul was lost it were well to win. 

And she fell beneath despair .? 

But so it is, as the world doth see 
So many and many times, 



1/8 VIRTUES OF MASONRY 

And many a shipwrecked heart must be 
Forced downward to deeper crimes. 

And the waif flits out into the busy street, 
Where the passers go to and fro ; 

And she lists to the sound of the many feet, 
And her step is sad and slow. 

Her face and form are fair to see 

As those in the gilded hall, 
'Mid the music and laughter floating free 

In the maze of the dizzy ball. 

O shipwrecked soul, to thy home return ; 

The pittance that thou might' st gain 
The motherly heart can never learn, — 

For death has its victim ta'en. 

Despair, despair to the heart of sin ; 

Now it reaches the depth of woe ; 
No hope for thee in the troubled din 

Of the careless world below. 

Ah ! relief will come from a brother's hand 
E'er despair has driven thee wild ; 

For Samaritan-like doth the Mason stand 
To relieve his brother's child. 

No brother forgets the lesson taught 
When first he assumes our ties ; 

And in distress, when relief is sought, 
His willing hand supplies. 



VIRTUES OF MASONRY 179 

The widow and orphan alike rejoice; 

They know that they need not fear. 
They hear his true and manly voice, 

And dry the trickling tear. 

And all the aid their wants require 

Is at once and freely given ; 
Their hearts are warmed by the kindling fire, 

And their grief away is driven. 

In place of hunger and sin and woe, 

That fall on the poor forsaken, — 
Fierce wolves that ever unsated go. 

Whose clutch can ne'er be shaken, — 

Behold come love, relief, and truth. 

Armed ever for assistance ; 
That guard the old and aid the youth 

And vanquish all resistance. 



Again a lesson that all should learn 

And treasure it up anew ; 
The best reward that we can earn 

Is to be good and just and true. 

Be brave, if ever occasion comes ; 

Be faithful in all you do ; 
Nor fear the sound of the hostile drums 

If the enemy's force pours through. 

Remember that men have been before, 
Who perished as brave men will ; 



l8o VIRTUES OF MASONRY 

The tale of the deeds they did of yore 
Must encourage to greater still. 

Though men be brave o'er flood and field, 

No step of theirs retreating ; 
Whose pride and courage ne'er would yield, 

Till death was their defeating ; 

There is a courage higher still — 

A firmness all unshaken, 
Where heart and conscience rule the will, 

By all of earth forsaken. 

Joan of Arc, that peasant queen. 

More royal one ne'er living, 
Who had such faith and truth serene 

The flames seemed pleasure giving. 

A woman's heart it was that bore 
With more than Christian meekness ; 

And through the fiery furnace wore 
A smile of angel sweetness. 

The cruel soldiers stood around — 
The pyre was all completed — 

The maiden's looks their souls confound, 
Whom they with scoff had greeted. 

The martyr bore upon her head 

A mitre, ever glorious ; 
For so she lives, tho' she be dead, 

O'er death and time victorious. 



VIRTUES OF MASONRY i8l 

With long hair flowing to her waist, 

In robe of simple neatness, 
On her it seemed that Heaven had placed 

The seal of all completeness. 

The white robe swayed, the flames leaped up, 

In prayer her lips were moving — 
The soul that tastes life's bitter cup 

Leaves all to God's approving. 

The priest, who, moved by holy zeal. 

Her side had ne'er forsaken. 
Felt not the flames that rise and wheel. 

And soon had both o'ertaken. 

" Go down ! " she said. " Leave me to God, 

Lift up the cross before me. 
I tread the path that saints have trod, 

Whose grace is shining o'er me. 

To Jesus I, by faith sustained, 

Commit my spirit lowly. 
The life I lose is life regained. 

Where all is pure and holy." 

How wept they then — the soldiers wept, 

At words so saint-like spoken ; 
True to their oath the soldiers kept, 

But she kept faith unbroken. 

** She dies a martyr. We are lost. 
Her soul with God reposes ; 



1 82 VIRTUES OF MASONRY 

And for our crime comes fearful cost, 
Against us Heaven closes." 

And one who threw his fagot last, 
Where fiercest flames were blending. 

Saw midst the glow, like furnace blast, 
A white-winged dove ascending — 

That, all unharmed by fire and smoke, 
Its way to heaven was wending ; 

And through that fiery column broke. 
With angel forms attending. 

If woman is of body frail — 

Too weak with man contending — 

At death her spirit does not quail, 
But glorifies its ending. 



The time has sped — one hundred years 
Their round have made complete ; 

And this old Lodge still hale appears. 
And firm upon its feet. 

King David Lodge, the pioneer, 
One hundred years has stood ; 

Its Record shows distinct and clear, 
Its Power has been for good. 

Its founders long have passed away. 

From earthly cares at rest, 
Awaiting that eternal day 

To rise among the blest. 



VIRTUES OF MASONRY 183 

And, during all this lapse of time, 

What wonders do we see. 
Our country yet is in its prime. 

And grander still to be. 

Invention strives, with ready art, 

To traverse earth and air ; 
With ease the sea is cleft apart. 

The lightning's power we share. 

And, if our course be guided right. 

The light that shines to-day 
Will never sink beneath the night. 

But glow with living ray. 

Our institutions must be free. 

As first our fathers planned ; 
The freedom of our schools must be 

Unchecked by any hand ; 

Here happiness can be maintained. 

Here dwells the free-born heart. 
And never may the treasure gained 

Be lost by intrigue's art. 

The future looks to this proud land 

For progress yet to be ; 
And many hearts upon the strand 

Of lands beyond the sea — 

Their anxious gaze are turning here, 

They list to freedom's call — 
And soon may come the happy year 

That grants it unto all. 



APPENDIX 



WILLIAM McKINLEV. 

CANTON. OHIO. 



Bovemter 18, 1895. 



ttp. Honrjr Dean Atwood, 

Taunton, Uass. 
Iftr dear sir:- 

I thank you for your ©oxa?tesy in sending me a copy 
of your Intea?national Ode, and I congratulate you on your pre- 
sentation of tlie most lofty spirit of humanitarianisn and good- 
will among men, and partioxxlarily between the two great Brjgllsh- 
speaking nations. 

Very truly yours. 



.^S^^'^- iJx^J 




i86 







Homy D. Atwobd, ^sq. , 

Taunton, Mass* 

My dear Sir:- 

I received last evening copies of your Intemational 

Lost 
Ode of Greeting and your souvenir poan The Arrow Which I have read 

with much interest ana pleasure. 

Please accept my thanks, and "believe me. 

Very truly yours. 



^^^u Tr^^^T^. 



187 



/ uVa^VJ. cL^ OoV^ S\\~ tUAAV<, 

XA^XA; ^/W5^^^^^^/• ^ W^ n^ ^'nOr ^ 



(^ 



1 88 






189 



THOMAS SAVAGE, 

COUNSELLOR AT LAW 

No. 6 TREMONT ST. 



BOSTON. MASS.,^e/^ Jl^O ^^^ Cp 






l/Hdy^z^ CuTc^lyl^.'LJi^-X Ja 









/(^C^^y OZ^t^yC^ i^^^yfUM 



IQO 




OJfKe o) 

J S GUSHING & GO. 

Norwood, Mass, Oct, 19, 1898. 

Dictated. 

Henry D. Atwood, Esq., 
Taunton, Mass. 

My dear Mr. Atwood:-? I believe that I have now received all 
of the proofs of yotrr volume of Poems. In closing our correspond- 
ence, for a time at least, I cannot refrain ftrom espressins the 
pleasure I have had In reading them, particularly the two entitled 
respectively "Hie Last Arrow" and the "Ode of Greeting". The lat- 
ter strlKes a responsive chord just at this time when our war with 
Spain seems to have brought the two great English-speaKlng nations 
Into closer and friendlier relations than over before. 

I heartily wish you success in your undertalcliig. 

Please put pe down for two copies, as I desire to send one to 
a friend. 

Very tnuy yoiu*s. 



\l- f U-T£<at'*vi Cct^»'^«'i-«- ^'t 



IQI 



F red. I. Clayton, I 

cr —^ ~D 



f BlLlTARY AND llVIC f AILOR | 



-H- 8 City Hall Avenue. •«- 



Between School Street ^1^ 

and Court Sq. ^C^i^-, 



d^^is-^j /^^^^^;?f'\2^r /<rf^ 



T^p^/'T-^y -'<^C=z^^^ ^>=^*-^"^. *-^ x-^j^^^c^ -^^i /^ /Uyi^^^ 






192 




Haiti mo re 

2fe 








y^^is< 




193 



.HEADQUARTERS. 




.^,ttt »f ^«/*^^^, 



3^ 



.5" 



> 



*^ 



'*% 






ost^^. 













^***^^ , 



X ^^ — 



194 



CONSULATE-GENERAL OF THE UNITED STATES 
OF AMEFtlCA. 

HABANA, Maroh 15, 1898. 



Henry D. Atvrood, Esq., 

Taunton, Mass. 

Dear Sir: 

I beg to aclcnowledse receipt pf your poeia "The ArroTX", 
and to assiire you that I appreciate your very icind and ooHpli- 
aentar;'- note. 

Very truly you.vs, 




195 



Oot. 6, 1898 t 

Mr. Henry D. Atwood, 
Taunton^ Mass* 
Dear sir: 

I am in receipt of yotir letter of 
the 28tli tiltino, together with the docu- 
ments referred to therein, for which please 
accept my thanks. 

Very^ truly yotirs. 




Major General 

Commanding < 



196 




y imasms Tfm mMMJM-^W, <^cmm/. 




^^-^^^-^ta^e House Boston 



^^r 



g ^ rJ/JJ, // y/S^JC 



1/ 
,,^<i"»/«-^ (ji-2^c'C-> -^L<L^<f:^ <ci^^«-^5^ ^-z4-i-«<»-^-t^<u-fc^f^.^^^^^«''22Cc-i>^4.^i^^ 




d,:^ ^^ <^^.^ j^a/f 



197 



EDWARD M. HAMLEN, Adjutant. LEONARD C. COUCH. Commander. FRANK E. VVliLLMAN. Quartermaster. 



mm^ (D)ff WteiP^rmgo Oc 



iHiiesKniqiniisirtters 

TAaNrow, MASS. October 4, 1898- 
Mr. Henry D. Atwood, 

Taunton, Uass. 
My dear Sir: 

Yoior comlns book of Poems Is one which will be warmly 
welcomed by all patriotic' citizens, and especially and with great 
pride, by those of your native city. 

A copy of your complete works has been long desired by many 
and I join with them In thanking you for tlius gratifying o^xc wishes. 

Yours truly. 



Division conmander. 



198 



:/ 



': ] ticf yd W/ 




.C^y^-i, 







-iw 




199 



Ma'-lioroug:h "House. 

'PalJ MaU S W 



^i^^ 



^ 



200 




